


(if you want) we could

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anger, Bottom Liam, Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt, First Time Blow Jobs, Hospitals, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Liam," Harry murmurs brokenly. "Are you alright?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	(if you want) we could

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many people to thank for holding my hand at various stages of this fic - Caris, Bee, Lis, Natasha. Thank you all so much from stopping me from throwing this all away in a huge fit of pique!
> 
> Thank you to Hela and Caris for beta'ing too, I love you both very much!
> 
> So, this is for the bottom!Liam ficathon which isn't meant to be posting until October but I don't know how much I'm going to be around in October so I hope the mods don't mind me posting this early (I'm sorry!). The prompt was: **Can I just be very general and ask for h/c with a happy ending?** so I hope this fills that for you!

Harry tugs on a loose curl that's somehow escaped his bandana at some point in the morning in his rush to get to the airport in time as he scrolls through Twitter on his phone. He idly tucks the curl behind his ear, glancing up again before he replies to a random question in his mentions. Harry hits send, his eyes flicking up as he stretches his long legs out, shifting slightly in his seat and throwing the phone down into the passenger seat. He debates turning the air conditioning on since it's surprisingly swelteringly hot in the September heat in LA and he doesn't want to wind the windows down and risk being recognised, but he eventually decides against it and flicks open another button on his shirt.

He rubs his hand across the back of his clammy neck and hums a few bars of a tune he's been working on for weeks now and can't seem to figure out how to progress to the chorus. Glancing up again, he finally spots a familiar figure, head ducked down and wearing far too many layers for LA's heatwave. Grabbing his phone, he hits dial and looks back up as his phone starts to ring.

"Lo?"

"I'm in the second bay, five cars in," he says.

He sees Liam lift his head slightly and zero in on his car. Harry grins at the sight of him and just about stops himself from waving at him enthusiastically, even though it's only been a few days since they went on a tour break. But it's different when they're just hanging out for fun together. It reminds Harry that they’re mates first, and the band, great as it is, comes second, always. Liam's come to visit him on their downtime and he'll be the first guest Harry has in his new place, and Harry's practically humming with excitement. When Liam opens the back door and slings his bag in, Harry literally has to sit on his hands and wait for Liam to slide into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him and tipping his snapback back before Harry half-launches himself into Liam’s body, giggling when he's half-sprawled over the two seats and Liam's patting his back a bit awkwardly and god, he's just so happy right now.

"Alright mate?" Liam says, sounding both amused and a bit tired. Harry pulls back slightly, his hand shoving his mass of curls back so he can see Liam properly. Liam’s hair is a tiny bit longer, and he's shaved for the first time in over a year. Harry reaches out to stroke Liam’s jawline as Liam grins back at him.

"Thanks for coming, Liam," Harry says, weighted heavier than he intends it to be. It means a lot to him to have one of the boys flying out here on their break to spend time with him. And when Liam reaches up to circle his fingers around Harry's wrist and just holds on for a second, Harry thinks Liam understands. "So what do you want to do first then on your visit?"

Liam's about to answer when he pauses, lips parted and his eyes go a bit wide and soft as he stares at something over Harry's shoulder. Amused, Harry glances behind him to find a white Lamborghini parked next to him. It's a beautiful car, and Harry's always appreciated all kinds of cars, especially ridiculously expensive fast cars that are all flash and style and draw people's attention. It appeals to him in much the same way as getting to drive an old yellow three-wheeler van with Trotters Independent Traders painted on the side does.

"Well, I _have_ passed my test now," Liam says slowly, and Harry knows that look. It's normally aimed at Louis and it usually involves abseiling down buildings or parachuting out of planes or whatever crazy daredevil thing Liam or Louis have decided they want to do together next. But now Harry's feeling the full force of it, and he's ashamed to admit that he's not even trying to think of a reason to say no.

"Absolutely not," Harry says, but he takes the key out of the ignition and picks up his phone, scrolling through his address book until he finds the one he wants. It takes less than three minutes to arrange for a white Lamborghini to be delivered to his place in half an hour, which is about the time it's going to take them to get home, by Harry’s estimation. Not that there's a chance he's going to let Liam drive it. He's seen Liam on a go-kart track more than once and that was bad enough. There's no chance he's letting Liam loose on the streets of LA. Not now, and probably not ever.

"You're a useful man to know, Harry," Liam says. Harry glances at him to make sure he's teasing, and the smile on his lips says that he is. "A man with connections."

Harry throws him a look before he puts the car in reverse and smoothly exits the space, guiding the car through the car park and heading out onto the freeway. He slides his sunglasses on and rolls the window down once they're away from the heavier traffic, his arm resting casually out the window.

"So how was home?" Harry asks.

"I thought this was home for you now," Liam says, and when Harry looks over at him, Liam looks absolutely sincere in that way that he does. Harry manages a slight twist of his lips before he turns his attention back to the road. "But yeah, it's good. Okay. Bit quiet, I guess."

"Quiet can be good sometimes," Harry says, switching lanes and taking the exit, passing a few more cars before he turns off towards home. The roads are quiet and the houses get further and further apart until he pulls up at a gate and leans out of the window to key in the code.

He hears Liam whistle in appreciation as the gates slowly grind open and Harry guides the car up the drive, pulling up outside the garage.

"What do you think then?" Harry asks, trying to sound nonchalant while ignoring the jittery, nervous pains in his tummy.

Liam turns to look at him, already laughing and Harry breaks in relief, his grin wide and painful. "It's amazing, right?"

"It's incredible," Liam says softly, leaning forward to look through the windscreen.

And it's a lot, Harry knows. It's really a family home and probably not the type of house he should have purchased, all things considered. He'd have been better off with a newer, more modern house with shiny floors and surfaces instead of the older, sprawling house set out before them with its old brickwork fireplaces and wooden floors and a kitchen made for families. A bad investment, he’d been told. But Harry had fallen in love with it, and like he usually does, he'd let his heart rule his head and made an offer for the full asking price, ignoring his agent's advice and doing an excited little dance when he'd had the offer accepted.

"You're not coming back, are you?" Liam asks. He sounds wistful and a bit sad, so Harry reaches over and covers Liam's hand with his own. "Mum would say you're putting down roots."

Harry wants to say that it's not true, that of course he's coming back. It's what he's been saying to his mum for the past year, although he thinks maybe she's stopped pretending to believe him too. But the truth is, LA feels like home right now and maybe he is putting down roots. At least for the moment. "How is your mum, then?" Harry asks, hoping to distract him.

Liam gives him a look that lets Harry know he's not fooling Liam for a second. Liam turns his hand so his palm is flat against Harry's and tangles their fingers together for a moment before he lets go and Harry's hand falls to rest on his thigh. "She's good," Liam says eventually. "They all are."

"Good," Harry says. "That's good."

A loud honk startles him and he blinks at Liam before they both turn, their heads pressed side by side together between the headrests as they look down the drive. There's a white Lamborghini at the gate and Harry can feel Liam start to vibrate with excitement next to him.

"Not a chance," Harry murmurs, but he's grinning and Liam's elbowing his ribs so Harry shoves him back before slipping out of the car and stretching his body out a little, easing out the kinks of being stuck in the car for the past hour.

"I'm older," Liam says as he appears next to him. He's rocking on the heels of his worker boots, a warm hand dropping onto Harry's shoulder. "I'll drive."

"You passed your test a few months ago," Harry reminds him. "And you've barely driven since. Oh, and you've never driven in the US before. So no, you're not driving."

He senses Liam's pout without bothering to look up. "Race you?"

Grinning, Harry pushes Liam back against his car before he sprints towards the gate, his long legs making up ground easily. Harry reaches the gate first, Liam barely a second behind him and he turns to gloat, except he's totally out of breath and needs to lean down for a moment, dragging in big gulps of oxygen while Liam waits patiently next to him, a comforting hand on his back.

"You're not even breathing heavily," Harry complains when he finally stands up straight again. "You let me win."

"Maybe," Liam says, which just makes Harry even sulkier because he hates it when Liam lets him win. Liam does it with all of them, and he's gotten so good at being sneaky about it that it takes them forever to realise he's even let them win, half the time.

"Dick," Harry mutters as he moves away to press the control button that opens up the gate. He has a quick conversation with the driver, flashing his license and signing a liability form while keeping an eye on Liam as he moves around the car, his hand flat against the car’s body and stroking the car gently, almost lover-like. Amused, Harry almost gets completely distracted when Liam leans in so close that his cheek is almost pressed against the bodywork but he forces himself to finish the paperwork and hands it back to the driver with a generous tip before the driver slips into a waiting car to drive away, leaving the keys firmly in Harry's hand.

"God, she's so beautiful," Liam says almost reverently. Harry wants to laugh, but he's a bit mesmerised with the way Liam's fingertips are trailing over the roof of the car.

"What makes the car female then?" Harry asks as he moves towards the driver seat. "Why not a boy car?"

Liam looks up, so adorably confused that Harry has to giggle at him. "Uh, I dunno," Liam says finally, glancing back at the car with a frown. "I guess it could be a boy car."

Liam leans down and strokes the hood of the car. "He's gorgeous," Liam murmurs. Harry feels a shiver race down his spine as Liam straightens up, flashing him another grin. "Yeah, I reckon you're right, Mr Styles. It's a boy car."

Harry's not sure why that makes his cheeks heat but he ducks his head and slides behind the wheel and distracts himself with how fucking cool the car is. Liam falls into the passenger seat and they just grin at each other, unbearably excited.

"Buckle up," Harry says brightly. He catches Liam's grin as he fastens his seatbelt but he pointedly waits until Liam's strapped in too before he throws the car into reverse.

The sudden jolt of the car backwards makes his heart race and he slams his foot down on the brake, vaguely aware of Liam's nervous laughter the car stops and he strokes the soft leather on the steering wheel apologetically. "Sorry, I forgot how sensitive the pedals are in these cars."

"I'll remember that for when it's my turn," Liam says. Harry throws him a look before he puts the car into drive and carefully pulls onto the road.

God, he loves this car, he realises as he drives. It's fast and responsive and yeah, it's not subtle but the windows are tinted so they at least have a modicum of privacy, Harry hopes. He keeps his foot light on the accelerator, even as Liam keeps nudging him excitedly, bouncing in his seat as they hit the freeway.

"C'mon Harry," Liam wheedles as the road seems to clear in front of them. "We can go faster, it's a bloody Lamborghini!"

Harry ignores him and concentrates on the road, his gaze flicking towards the speedometer every few seconds. Silence settles between them and Harry relaxes back into his unbelievably comfortable leather seat as the car eats up the miles easily.

A glance at Liam reveals that he's staring out of his window, a smile playing on his lips as he watches the scenery change, passing cars full of families and businessmen and women and couples on their way somewhere. After a while, Liam starts humming like he always does. It's low and melodic and Harry doesn't think he recognises it. But he finds the rhythm eventually, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. He follows Liam's transition into another tune, sharing a grin when Liam flicks his eyes towards Harry.

"My turn yet?" he asks, sounding so hopeful and childlike that Harry almost says yes reflexively.

"Nope," Harry says cheerfully. He smoothly changes lanes and puts his foot down a little, but he can feel the waves of disappointment Liam's sending him because they're still driving within the speed limit.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind, you know," Liam grumbles next to him. A bubble of laughter rises up inside of Harry, and he reaches over to tug on Liam's snapback until Liam whines and shoves his hand away. "You're no fun, Styles. What happened to you?"

If Harry's smile tightens just a little, then he hopes Liam doesn't notice. "I've grown up," Harry says a little sharply, because it's been a harsh and bumpy road that Liam's been a bystander to. Growing up in public, being the one pushed to the front when Harry just wants to be in the middle. The emotion catches him unawares, filling him and making him sharp and pointed. "You should try it sometime."

As soon as he's said it, he wants to grab the words back and shove them back into his mouth, swallow them whole and stop them from ever tumbling out of his mouth ever again. He doesn't even mean it, not really. Not at all. But the words are there, between them, and Harry can't take them back. "Liam ..."

"No you're right," Liam says quietly. When Harry looks at him, Liam's staring resolutely out of the window and Harry's belly hurts. "Course you're right."

Guilt claws at his insides and he wants to reach out to touch Liam, to bring him back. God, Liam's only been in LA for an hour and Harry's already managed to upset him. "I'm not," he says fiercely. His mouth tightens and he bangs the heel of his hand against the wheel. "I'm not right, Liam. Fuck, we're like, you touched a sore point, okay? And I lashed out. That was shitty of me."

"Doesn't make you wrong though," Liam says softly. Harry sees him shift in his seat, looking awkward and uncomfortable, and Harry feels even worse. "They keep suggesting I hand over my twitter to someone in the PR department. That's probably a good move, right?"

"No!" Harry says, shaking his head in denial. "No, that wouldn't be a good move at all."

"My mum's suggested it too," Liam says, and that has Harry's head snapping up to stare at him. "A few days ago. She doesn't really understand twitter, but she hears things. And you know she worries. Pulled me aside when I was making tea at home and asked if maybe I should think about not doing the whole twitter thing anymore. She thinks maybe I need to work on my anger issues too, and she's probably right. I mean, I do lose my temper a lot more now. I fly off the handle at stuff that wouldn't even bother me a few years ago. And Ruth sort of maybe suggested that I should stop drinking so much."

"No, look Liam," Harry says more urgently, his stomach churning horribly, before he pauses to collect his thoughts as quickly as he can because he can't bear it when Liam gets like this. When he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and he and the lads only find out when Liam blurts it all out. He'd had no idea about Karen or Ruth, and he doesn't want to think about what other opinions he's been listening to and internalising and worrying about. "That's not. No, Liam ..."

Harry reaches over, his eyes leaving the road for a second as he finds Liam's hand on his own thigh and his fingers lace with Liam's. He's still half turned towards him when there's a loud, ringing crash and the car jolts out of his control. He doesn't even have time to drop Liam's hand before he's being thrown forward and he sees a brief flash of blue sky underneath him, registering that there's something very wrong with that visual before a shooting pain races through his body and everything goes black.

*

There's noise. Voices that Harry doesn't recognise. A throbbing pain in his head. Sirens.

God, his head fucking hurts.

He flexes his hand and it scrapes over rough gravel. Harry can feel bile rising in his throat and he swallows quickly, a bitter taste flooding his mouth. Opening his eyes is an effort and there are two people leaning over him, looking calm as he feels hands moving over his body.

Paramedics.

Oh fucking Christ the car. Liam. _Liam_. "Liam!" he calls out croakily, his hands hitting the hard ground as he tries to sit up. Two firm pairs of hands keep him down, but he's pushing against the resistance, his eyes frantic as he tries to find Liam. "Liam!"

"It's alright, sir. Your friend is being seen to." The voice is soft and calm while Harry's anything but. He scrambles to get their hands off him and he sits up, his head spinning and a wave of dizziness flooding through him but he fights it off and looks around, trying to find Liam. There's an acrid smell of rubber and heat and a low hum of noise around him but none of the voices sound familiar. None of them sound right.

"Where is he?" he asks desperately. He can't seem to focus his eyes and all he can see are flashing lights and people he doesn't recognise. "Where is he?!"

"In the ambulance," the paramedic says. He points to Harry's left and he swivels his head too quickly, bile rising inside of him again but he forces it back as he gingerly staggers to his feet, ignoring the paramedic's help as he manages to get one foot in front of the other. He needs to see Liam. He needs to make sure he's okay. God, he needs Liam to be _alive_.

"You really shouldn't be moving ..." the paramedic says, but he trails off as Harry continues to ignore him. There's a trickle of sweat running down his back, but he's fine. His head hurts and he wants to throw up, but he's flexed all his limbs and nothing's broken. Nothing hurts.

He needs to get to Liam.

Every step feels like it takes too much out of him, but he keeps moving until his hand meets the ambulance door. There's tubes and monitors and Liam's laid out on a gurney, shirtless and his jean ripped in so many places. He's pale and bleeding, his eyes rolled back in his head and god, his leg. It's bent at an unnatural angle and Harry retches, shoving his hand over his mouth as he struggles to fight it back again.

"Liam," he whispers, a gaping hole forming in his chest and his blood running cold. "Liam!"

"We need to get him to the hospital," a different paramedic tells him. She seems kind enough with a gentle smile and a hand that rests on Harry's wrist.

"Why? Is he okay?" Harry asks. He can't seem to catch his breath, his hands clenching around the ambulance door handle as he holds on, his legs threatening to give out. "He's okay, right? He's going to be okay?"

"You're having an asthma attack," the woman tells him, like he isn't aware, like he doesn't know that his chest feels tight and he can't breathe. She passes him an inhaler and he breathes through it, his eyes glued on Liam's motionless body. Liam's got cuts all over his face and down his arms and Harry still can't breathe. He feels a hand press down on his back and he folds himself over, bending his knees and puffing on the inhaler again. He focuses on the ground as he tries to breathe and it takes a few minutes but he finally feels his chest loosen enough that he can look up again, zeroing in on Liam who hasn't moved at all while paramedics circle around him, pressing their hands firmly against his body and murmuring to each other in low tones that Harry can't quite catch.

He blindly reaches out, pushing his way into the ambulance and ignoring everyone who turns towards him to herd him out. He never throws his weight around or uses his name for any advantage, but he's prepared to this time because he needs to touch Liam, to feel his pulse and make sure he's breathing. Trembling hands reach down to brush Liam's neck carefully. Gently. It's weak, but Liam's pulse is definitely there and Harry wants to just fucking cry. He wants to bury his face in Liam's shoulder and just _cry_.

"Liam," he whispers around a hiccup. "God, Liam I'm so sorry. Please be okay. You've got to be okay."

"We need to get him to the hospital." It's the same woman and she sounds unbearably patient, like she's dealt with overwrought friends, no - with _family_ , before. "We need to set that leg and make sure there's nothing more serious going on inside of him. He took quite a hit."

The words barely register though because Liam's eyes are opening slowly. His gaze focuses in on Harry, and he leans down, pressing his lips against Liam's temple.

"Liam," Harry murmurs brokenly. "Are you alright?"

He sees Liam's gaze rove over his own face before he starts to frown. "You're bleeding," he mumbles. "Are you okay mate?"

Harry wants to laugh but he's afraid it might come out a bit hysterical. Only bloody Liam would be worrying about him while he's laid out in a fucking ambulance. He brushes his hand over his face carefully, and when he looks down, his hand has streaks of blood over it so yeah, he probably is bleeding. But he can't think about that now. Not when there are more important things to worry about.

"I'm sorry," he says desperately. He sees Liam's eyelids close and his breath catches in his throat, a lump forming that he can't seem to swallow. "I'm so sorry."

Liam doesn't answer, and panic rises inside of him.

"We've got to go now," the woman tells him again and her voice is firmer. Harry stumbles out of the ambulance and watches her close the doors, shutting him out and leaving him alone in the road as the ambulance drives away, siren blaring.

"We'll take you to the hospital and check you out properly," the first paramedic says, and he sounds a bit kinder, making Harry's throat close all the way up and his eyes feel horribly scratchy. Which is when he turns and sees the car. It's a complete write-off, crumpled in the middle with the passenger door ripped off. God, that's where Liam was.

Harry's legs give out and he pitches forward, his palms scraping across the gravel where he falls as he heaves up the entire contents of his stomach. Hands try to help him but he shrugs them off. He's grazed his knees and they ache as he stumbles slowly back to his feet, wiping his hand across his mouth as he stares at where the car was hit. Where Liam was directly hit.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Driver wasn't paying attention and swerved into yours," the paramedic says succinctly. "Came away without a scratch."

Harry's not one to feel bitter about fate and such things, but he feels it now while Liam's lying unconscious in an ambulance and Harry's not with him.

Liam's all alone.

"Can we go?" he asks the guy, who guides him towards a second ambulance. He climbs inside and sits on the gurney, closing his eyes as he starts to shiver. The paramedic sits opposite him as the ambulance pulls away, and Harry starts counting in his head as the siren cuts through the silence, trying to focus his thoughts on anything but the sight of Liam looking broken and battered on the gurney.

He counts all the way to the hospital.

*

The doctors are thoroughly irritated with him by the time he's released from the hospital's care. He's been asking after Liam for the past thirty minutes and not paying attention to anything he's been asked, until the doctor finally declare him a bit bruised and cut up, but nothing serious. He gets a few butterfly stitches in his head and his cuts cleaned up, then he's being guided down endless hallways until he walks into ICU and shown to a private room where he drops into a chair and his head falls into his shaking hands.

They'd told him Liam was in surgery and that there'd been a risk of internal bleeding. He vaguely remembers screaming about Liam's kidney and how careful they had to be, but everything that's happened in the past two hours has been a complete blur. All he can think about is how pale Liam had looked, and how it's all his fault. It's his fault that Liam's in surgery and it's his fault that Liam's broken and god he just wants to see him.

If he hadn't snapped at Liam. If he hadn't taken his eyes off the road for that one second. If he hadn't been such a dick and put his best mate's life in fucking jeopardy.

If he'd been better.

Christ.

The room he's been put in is white and sterile and exactly how he imagined a private hospital waiting room to look like. There are bland pictures hanging on the wall of what he thinks might be LA landscapes but they're not of anything he recognises. The chairs are blue, plastic and unbelievably uncomfortable and he's facing the door, willing a doctor to walk in and tell him that Liam's alright.

He waits.

He waits until his eyes are scratchy and sore from staring at the stubbornly closed door. He waits until he's scratched a dark red mark into the back of his hand without feeling an ounce of pain. He waits until he's worked himself half into hysteria, standing up suddenly with pain shooting up his left leg. He rubs at his thigh unconsciously, the rough, torn denim scratching against his palm before he walks across the room and through the door, finding a sign for the cafeteria and moving swiftly through the clean white halls, his head ducked down.

He passes a window and catches his reflection. Stopping to stare, he presses his fingers against the scratches and cuts reflected back at him. They're just superficial, according to the doctors, but his fingers trace the long cut that starts mid-cheek and travels down to his jaw. He can feel the pain like a dull ache, thanks to the painkillers he'd been given, but when he presses down hard, the pain shoots through his face and he lets out a shaky breath, his hand dropping down to his side where it balls into a fist.

Harry makes himself move away from the window, passing through a few more hallways until he steps into the cafeteria. He heads straight for the coffee machine, taking it black and strong and unsweetened. Finding a seat in the corner, he settles down and throws his phone on the table, unable to even scroll through his messages or missed calls because no one is here. No one is in LA, not a single person who he wants to see, anyway. They're all miles away and there's no one here to hold his hand or stroke his hair or tell him it's going to be okay. Or yell at him for crashing the car. For putting Liam in the hospital. For being careless and reckless with something so bloody precious.

When his phone vibrates and cuts through his thoughts, he looks down to see Paul's name flash up. He answers with a shaking hand.

"Paul? Paul!" he says quickly, closing his eyes to block everything out.

"Harry, are you alright?" Paul asks calmly. He sounds a million miles away. Harry doesn't know how Paul knows, but he guesses it's on the internet already somewhere.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Harry says like a mantra. Of course he's fine. Liam's the one who's not fine. "Liam's in surgery. He's in surgery and I can't see him."

"Take a breath mate," Paul says firmly and Harry obeys instinctively. It doesn't make him feel any better though because Liam's still hurt and Harry's the cause. "He's going to be fine. It's Liam, okay? He's the scrappiest fighter we know."

Knowing it's true doesn't lessen the weight pressing down on his chest. "His leg was broken," he murmurs. It's all his fault. "Do I have to give a statement or something?"

"Don't worry about it," Paul says dismissively. Harry rubs his hand over his face and thanks god for Paul. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry repeats on rote. "I'm fine."

"Just focus on Liam, okay?" Paul says, like Harry can think about anything else right now.

Harry takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. "It's my fault," he says as evenly as he can. He's got to tell Paul. He's got to make sure Paul understands. "It's all my fault that Liam's hurt."

"No it's not," Paul says immediately, his voice harsher than Harry's heard it in a while. "I know you. It's not your fault. Don't beat yourself up over this, Harry. It's not your fault."

Harry tries to let the words sink in, to feel them slide over the cold fear inside but for once, Paul's words don't comfort him. He's too far away. He hasn't seen Liam like Harry has. He hasn't seen the cuts and bruises and the pale pallor of his normally golden-tanned skin. "It's Liam, Paul," Harry eventually says helplessly. "It's Liam."

He can hear Paul's sigh down the phone. "I know," he says, his voice softening. "Just focus on Liam, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay," Harry whispers. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Paul."

"I'll speak to you later, okay? Call me as soon as he's out of surgery," Paul says.

"I will," Harry promises before he reluctantly hangs up. He picks up his coffee, sipping at the too hot, strong, bitter drink before putting it down carefully on the clean but scratched table. He glances up, looking for a distraction as he blows on the hot liquid in its polystyrene cup. There's a few dozen people in the cafeteria with him, and they're scattered around the room in pairs and trios, and a bigger group further down the room, all whispering and huddled together with little touches like they're drawing strength from each other.

Harry looks back down at his coffee and swallows thickly.

His phone vibrates again, still in his hand where he's clutching it tightly.

"Lou."

"Harry? Harry are you alright?" Louis asks, half-yelling down the phone. "Harry!"

"I'm fine," Harry says mechanically. Flatly. "I'm fine. It's Liam. He's in surgery, Lou. He's in surgery because I crashed the car."

"Shut up, it's not your fault," Louis says fiercely, and Harry wants to cry because Louis always hears what Harry doesn't say. What he can't say. "We're coming, alright? We're at the airport, all of us, and the plane leaves in a few minutes. Chartered a private plane and everything."

"Posh," Harry manages to say, but his eyes are filling up. He grabs his unwanted coffee and almost runs out of the cafeteria, heading back towards his little waiting room because if he's going to break down, it's best to do it in private, away from prying eyes and eyewitness accounts. "Guess we'll have to do another album to pay for it then."

Louis laughs at that, but since it's a poor joke Harry figures he's just being mollified. "Spoke to Karen earlier and persuaded her not to come out until we know what's going on. We'll be there as soon as we can, mate. Just hold on for a bit, yeah?"

"I'm scared, Lou," Harry blurts out, covering his eyes with his hands. "I'm so fucking scared."

He hears Louis curse. "Don't you fucking dare, Harry. He's going to be fine, okay? It's Liam, he's not going anywhere." It's so close to what Paul's just said that Harry manages a faint, wobbly smile. "We'll be there soon, mate. He'll probably be out of surgery and hobbling around the halls yelling about getting out of there before we even get there."

"Yeah," Harry says, even though he knows Louis' wrong. "Hurry, yeah? Get here soon."

"Soon as we can, Harry," Louis promises. "Look we're being taken onto the plane now. They're glaring at me and pointing at my phone."

"I'll let you go then," Harry says reluctantly. "I love you. Tell the boys."

"Stop it," Louis says softly, sounding horribly sad all at once. "We love you too."

The line goes dead.

For the next few hours, Harry's stuck in his room alone. A few people pop their heads around the door, medical professionals who ask if Harry wants anything or if he wants to call anyone to come sit with him, but there's no one. They're all on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic, or maybe the continental US by now. He smiles politely and tells them he's fine.

A doctor finally arrives to let Harry know that Liam's out of surgery. "His leg has been reset and there was some internal bleeding," she tells Harry. That crushing feeling on his chest comes back in full force, and he must go pale or something because the doctor moves towards him and helps him back into a chair, concern written all over her face. She looks a bit like his mum, he realises, with dark hair and bright eyes. "We've stopped the bleeding but he's still under the anaesthetic and will be for a few more hours. You can go and see him for a few minutes if you want to."

Harry looks up in surprise. "I can?"

She smiles kindly at him. "I know who you are, Mr Styles. I've got a son who adores your band. Liam's his favourite."

It makes Harry smile, for what feels like the first time since he'd woken up on the side of the road all those hours ago. "He's got excellent taste."

"Come on then," she says gently. "I'll get you into his room for a few minutes so you can see for yourself that he's fine."

It's not until he's at the door to Liam's room that he hesitates, glancing over at the doctor who's smiling encouragingly at him. "He's going to be alright, isn't he?"

"He is," she tells him. "As good as new."

"Okay," Harry says. He manages a smile for the doctor before his hand reaches for the door handle, smooth and cool in his palm. It's with a deep breath that he pushes it down and steps inside, at once assaulted with the smell of antiseptic and the sound of monitors beeping away.

And Liam. Lying in a big hospital bed that manages to make him look small. Against white sheets that just make him look paler. Liam, who's hooked up to tubes and oxygen, his foot in plaster and raised slightly.

Harry's hand covers his mouth as he lets out a silent sob, his entire body shaking as he stares at Liam, who looks even worse than he did in the ambulance. His face is covered in cuts and bruises that are just starting to bloom, swollen and puffy.

"Please be okay," Harry mumbles through his hand. "God Liam, please just be okay."

The urge to move further into the room and reach for Liam's hand is strong. To check he's okay. That he's still breathing, even though he can see Liam's chest moving up and down under the sheets. But he doesn't. He stays exactly where he is, wiping at his wet eyes and sniffling as his eyes trace every inch of Liam, lying unnaturally still.

"Time's up."

Harry scrubs his hand over his face once more before he turns towards the door. "Thanks," he murmurs, stepping outside the stifling room with a final glance over his shoulder at Liam, who still hasn't moved.

She pats his arm and goes to move away, but he catches her wrist with his hand, dropping it immediately when she turns back with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you got like, some paper or something?" he asks. He watches as she digs in her pockets, looking a bit confused and frowning as she pulls out a small pad of paper. Harry takes it from her, as well as the pen she offers him and turns to the wall, leaning against it. "What's your son's name?"

"Cameron," she says, and she sounds a bit choked up. Harry knows the feeling. He signs a message, finishing with his name and his phone number and hands it to her, along with the pad and pen. "Tell him to call that number when Liam's out of the hospital. I'll make sure to pass him to Liam."

"Thank you," she says fervently, blinking quickly as she carefully tucks the paper into her pocket. "You have no idea what it'll mean to him."

Harry just smiles at her and moves away, heading back to his little oasis. He thinks maybe he could sleep a little now, his body feeling weary, his legs heavy as he pushes through the door and falls into one of the chairs.

He calls Paul to give him an update on Liam, and passes on the details of who he'd rented the Lamborghini from. When he hangs up, he dials the number Paul's given him for one of their team of lawyers and gives a statement. Then he lies down across the chairs, wriggling around until he finds the most comfortable position and closes his eyes.

*

He wakes up to find Louis staring back at him, looking worried. There's a hand in his hair but it doesn't feel like Louis'. It feels more like Niall. And he's being lifted up with hands that can only belong to Zayn to sit next to him.

"You're here," Harry whispers, wondering if he's still asleep, his eyes still sleepy and everything a bit hazy. Wanting to stay asleep where the boys are with him.

"Just got in," Louis says, and he sounds gruff and unlike himself. "Fuck, Harry you're covered in bruises and scratches. You said you were fine!"

"I am," Harry murmurs, curling into Zayn's side and breathing in his smell. When he finally looks up, his eyes scanning each boy in turn to reassure himself that they're really here, he realises that they all look about as awful as he feels. They're all pale, exhausted and there are new, fine worry lines on each familiar face. He's sure he's got some etched onto his now too, ones that he'll let Liam poke at later when he's better and call them Liam Lines, probably. He hopes. "I'm fine. A few little cuts but I'm fine. Doctors said so."

Louis looks disbelieving but he pulls a chair over to sit opposite him. "Have you seen him?"

"He's out of surgery and still knocked out," Harry says. He's suddenly finding a loose thread on Zayn's jeans incredibly interesting.

"But he's going to be okay?" Niall asks, his fingers threading through Harry's hair. "He's going to be fine, right?"

"That's what the doctor said," Harry says, reaching out a clumsy hand to try and pat Niall's knee in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "She's got a son who loves us, apparently. Liam's his favourite."

"A solid choice," Zayn murmurs.

"That's what I told her," Harry mumbles, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut because he's afraid he's going to start crying again. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Zayn tells him, curling both arms around him and all but pulling Harry onto his lap. "Stop it."

"It is my fault," Harry whispers, burying his face into Zayn's flannel shirt that smells like Zayn and home. "I was driving. I wasn't looking. I looked away and then it all went black."

"Paul said the other car hit you," Niall says, but Harry's already shaking his head. God, he's getting Zayn's shirt wet. "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

"It was," Harry says insistently. He's openly crying now, he can feel the sobs wracking his body as Louis presses up against him, sandwiching him between the two of them. "It was all my fault."

Zayn shushes him and Louis holds on tight and Niall strokes his hair until Harry feels like he can't cry anymore. He can feel hands moving him, settling him down until his head is in Niall's lap and he can hear the boys talking in hushed tones around him. But he can't hear them through the fog in his mind. His hand tightens around Niall's thigh and Niall's hand brushes over his shoulder, settling on warm and real on his back.

A silence settles over the room eventually but Harry doesn't feel so alone this time. The boys take turns looking after Harry, until he ends up pressed against Louis' side, his head on his shoulder as he wills the time away.

"Did you tell them about Liam's kidney?" Niall says out of nowhere, startling Harry upright.

"Yeah," Harry says slowly, his mind moving too slowly. "I think I told the paramedic, on the scene."

"Good, that's good," Niall murmurs. He settles back against Zayn and Harry finds his hand covered by Louis.

"You did good," Louis tells him quietly. "You did brilliant."

"We argued," Harry blurts out. He sees everyone's heads snap up to stare at him and he ducks his head. "We argued, before the crash. I was trying to apologise. That's why I wasn't looking when it ... happened. I didn't get the chance to though. I never said sorry."

"Like, a proper fight?" Niall asks, sounding sceptical. "Doesn't sound like you two, mate."

Harry can't speak for a minute, and Louis cuddles him closer. "Even if you did argue, it doesn't matter. It's Liam. He can't hold a grudge longer than two minutes."

"Unless you're Boy George," Zayn mumbles, attempting to lighten the mood. It makes Niall laugh, at least, but Harry sucks in a harsh breath and closes his eyes. "Harry? It was a joke, mate."

"I said he should grow up," Harry says quietly. He flashes back to Liam's expression and a sharp pain drags through his chest. "I didn't mean it. You should have seen him, Zayn. He said his mum thinks he's got anger issues and should get off Twitter. And Ruth thinks he's got a drinking problem."

Three blank faces stare back at him.

"That's ridiculous!" Louis splutters eventually. "They can't really think that."

"He looked so sad," Harry says, which isn't really an answer but it's all he can think about. "Miserable. Like he maybe thought they were right. Or that he'd let them down. And there's me, reinforcing that shit because I lashed out."

"Harry, c'mon," Zayn murmurs, nudging Niall until he moves and Zayn can shift over to Harry's other side, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder. "That's not an argument. Liam knows you didn't mean it anyway."

"He looked so sad," Harry repeats. He feels awful, no matter what the boys say because he was there. He saw Liam's face. "He'll blame me for everything, and he should. He should."

Harry can feel Louis go rigid next to him, but the door opening interrupts whatever he was going to say.

"He's awake," the doctor tells them. Her gaze seeks out Harry and she offers him a bright smile as she pats her pocket. "He's asking for you. He's a bit woozy so you can only see him for a few minutes, but maybe it'll put your minds at rest."

"Thank you," Niall says quickly, jumping to his feet and hugging her, to the doctor's complete surprise. She winds up patting his shoulder awkwardly as she looks thoroughly confused, but she opens the door and leads Niall out, with the rest of them following.

Harry tries to hang back, but Louis puts his arm around him and all but drags him along until they're stepping into Liam's room.

It still smells like antiseptic and there are still monitors beeping. Harry can't make himself move away from the door and he can't force himself to look up. He hears Zayn murmuring to Liam, quiet enough that he can't make out the words.

He feels like an intruder.

"Harry?"

Liam's voice is croaky and trembling. Harry wants to cry all over again.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looks up then, and he moves forward slowly until he's next to the bed, Niall shifting to give them room. Liam grabs at his hand, wincing at the obvious pain caused by the movement. Harry laces their hands together, breathing shallowly because the last time he did that ... Christ.

Liam's bruises have deepened even in the few hours it's been since he last saw him. He looks drawn and pale and fragile in a way Harry's never seen him look before. His hand tightens around Liam's and he feels Liam squeeze back just as hard.

"Are you alright?" Liam asks, his eyes flickering over Harry's face, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "You're hurt."

Harry shakes his head. "No, no I'm fine. Just a few scratches. I'm fine."

"Gonna punch you next time you say it," Louis mutters quietly. "Then we'll see if you're _fine_."

Harry shoots him a filthy look before he returns his gaze to Liam. He leans down, needing to be closer to him. "It's you we're worried about."

Liam's other hand reaches up slowly to grab Harry's shoulder and he tugs weakly. Harry lets himself fall carefully against Liam, still holding his weight so as not to crush him. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking at the last. "I'm so, so sorry."

Liam's hand tightens on his shoulder. "An accident," he says carefully in that raspy tone. "Just an accident."

Harry doesn't just mean the accident. But Liam's holding onto him like he doesn't want to let go and Harry just wants to stay here forever and feel Liam breathing against him. They stay locked together until Harry feels Zayn's hand on his other shoulder, pulling him back and looking apologetic.

"We've got to go," he says and Harry nods. He's still got his hand in Liam's though and he gives it one last squeeze, seeing Liam flush as Harry lifts his free hand to swipe at his eyes before he lets go and Zayn drags him back towards the door. They're all saying goodbye and telling Liam that they love him and they'll be back in a few hours, but Harry stays silent until he's outside, when he grabs Zayn and hugs him tightly. Zayn returns the hug, pulling Niall and Louis in as well and they just hold onto each other. There might be a few sniffles and coughs and they might all wipe their eyes when they pull back, but they're also smiling and Harry feels marginally better.

"Panic over," Louis declares loudly, but he slides his hand into Harry's and Niall takes his other hand while Zayn's dialling Paul and they're being hurried out for using phones in the ICU. But neither Niall or Louis lets go, and Harry's so glad they're here.

*

They stay in their little room while Liam sleeps and by the end of the nice doctor's shift, she's got four signed autographs for her son and more promises that Liam will call Cameron as soon as he can. Louis spends over two hours on the phone to Paul and a variety of other people, rearranging their schedule. Realistically they have to cancel anything until at least the end of the month, which means that Louis spends a lot of the time rolling his eyes and taking deep breaths before he speaks, to Niall's amusement.

When he finally gets off the phone, they're allowed to see Liam again for a few minutes and it's easier this time to walk in and talk to Liam, who's more lucid now. They explain the situation and Liam looks mutinous but since he's hardly in a position to argue, he keeps quiet, lips drawn thinly as he folds his arms and sulks.

"You need to rest for at least a few weeks," Zayn tells him gently, his hand on Liam's arm. "C'mon babe. We'll be back on stage soon enough and we'll reschedule the concerts so no one loses their money. The cast will be off in five weeks. The doctor said you were lucky it wasn't a worse break."

Liam still looks distraught though, so Harry drops his hand onto Liam's other arm, his thumb stroking Liam's warm skin gently. "Think the fans would get a bit of a shock if they saw you looking like this."

Liam's face falls almost comically. "Is it that bad?"

"Yep," Louis says cheerfully. "You look truly terrible, Payno."

"Oh," Liam says quietly. He glances up at Harry, who gives him a sad smile. "I guess I probably do."

"Just concentrate on getting better," Niall says, patting his good leg. "We'll figure out the rest."

"Oh really Niall?" Louis says, turning towards Niall with his eyebrows raised. "I haven't heard you on the phone sorting out any of this then."

"You're just so good at it Lou," Niall says easily, wrapping an arm around Louis' shoulders.

"Wanker," Louis says, but his arm circles Niall's waist and squeezes. "Anyway, Niall's right. I'll sort out the rest, you just concentrate on getting better. Both of you."

Harry doesn't react and just keeps his hand on Liam until they're shooed out with promises to be back later.

"He'll stay with me," Harry says as soon as the door is closed behind them. "To recuperate."

"Are you sure?" Louis asks. He's got his serious face on, but Harry's determined on this one point. He caused this. He'll fix it. "You thought your entire friendship was over a few hours ago."

"And you might actually have to unpack a few boxes in that mansion you call home," Niall points out. "How long have you lived there now?"

"Few months," Harry says with a sigh. "But with tour and everything, like, it's hard to settle into a house when you know you'll be gone in a few weeks. Spend more time on tour than home."

"Maybe now's a perfect opportunity to take the time to unpack, make it feel more like a home than a hotel," Zayn says quietly. His arm snakes around Harry's waist to squeeze gently.

"You'll have to unpack if you've got a housebound guest," Louis says reasonably. "Are you sure about all this, Harry?"

Harry feels his cheeks heat but he nods anyway. "I'm sure. I'll look after him."

"Probably better than him flying home," Zayn says thoughtfully. "It's a pretty long flight."

"Heyyy," Harry says, slightly offended. "I'm great at looking after people. I made you soup last time you were sick."

"There's a bit more to it than that, love," Louis says. He pats Harry's arm, which makes Harry frown because he's not an idiot, despite what his dumb bandmates say. "You'll have to help him dress and shower, no actually bath I guess with that cast. You'll have to be a 24 hour nurse, Harry."

"I can be a nurse," Harry says grumpily. He's going to make a great nurse.

"Course you can mate," Niall tells him, slinging an arm around him and tugging him in for a cuddle that turns into a tussle while Zayn and Louis watch them. When they pull apart and Harry tries to pat his hair down while Niall giggles into Zayn's shoulder, Harry takes a deep breath and faces Louis again.

"I'm looking after him, Lou."

Louis smiles then and nods. "Yeah okay. You can tell Liam though."

"Oh man," Niall crows, delighted. "He's gonna _hate_ being looked after!"

And well, yes he will, Harry realises belatedly. Liam's the worst patient of all of them, in that he has absolutely no patience at all. He grumbles and whines and wants to get out of bed long before he's ready to. He pushes himself too hard and he flat out lies about how awful he feels.

"Crap," Harry mutters, to no one and everyone.

"Maybe you should invest in some handcuffs and chain him to the bed," Zayn says, absolutely straight-faced because Zayn is awful.

A flash of Liam shirtless and a bit sweaty appears unbidden in Harry's mind. He shivers helplessly as he shoves it away and frowns at Zayn.

"Kinky," Niall murmurs, still sounding delighted.

"Well, however you choose to keep Liam in bed," Louis says, grinning while Harry blinks at him, "you'll be on your own. Because we've got to head back the day after tomorrow. Promo to make up for disappointing fans."

Harry swallows thickly, and Niall's hand sneaks around his waist. "It's alright, mate. Just one of those things. Nothing to worry about."

"What's the official story then?" Harry says. His voice sounds a bit odd, but no one says anything, to his eternal gratitude.

"Same as the real one. You were driving carefully and a driver hit you out of nowhere," Louis says. "Just an accident. Liam's got a broken leg and you're a bit banged up. We'll be here tomorrow, but Paul will arrange getting you two back to yours, if that's where you want to go."

Harry nods. "Thanks for sorting everything, Lou."

Louis just shrugs. "S'my job, since Payno's incapacitated."

Harry smacks a kiss against his cheek, dragging Niall and Zayn in for kisses too. "He's gonna be alright."

"Course he is," Zayn says. "Told you that all along."

Harry considers giving him a shove but decides on a cuddle instead, breathing in Zayn's familiar and comforting scent. It helps ease the pressure on his chest just a little.

*

Liam's shaking his head. "No," he says sharply, just in case he wasn't making himself clear. "Absolutely not."

"Someone's feeling better," Louis mutters, quiet enough that Harry's the only one who hears him.

Harry's more concerned with how fiercely Liam's silently pleading with Zayn, who broke the news of Liam's recuperation destination a moment ago.

"Zayn, c'mon." Harry hears the quiet plea and he turns his head away. He's certain that Liam thinks he's being quiet enough that Harry won't hear him, but still. Of course Liam doesn't want to come back to his. Harry's the one who put him in the hospital, he's hardly going to trust Harry to look after him while he's vulnerable and hurting.

"I uh, I've got to call my mum," he mumbles, brushing past Louis and shrugging off the hand that reaches out for him, closing the door firmly behind him and making his way quickly down the hall. He heads downstairs and out a door they'd discovered the day before when Zayn was trying to find somewhere to smoke without risking being seen by fans, who've apparently barricaded the hospital despite security's best efforts to disperse them. He lets the door close quietly behind him and takes a deep breath, and another, and another.

"Harry?" Louis' head appears around the door, and god even Louis looks sad. Things must be absolutely awful."Alright, mate?"

"Sure," Harry says as brightly as he can manage, but he can't look at Louis. He stares out across the hospital grounds and forces his smile to stay in place. "Everything's great."

"He doesn't mean it," Louis says, and Harry feels him move next to him, a warm hand wrapping around his wrist. "You know he doesn't."

He feels his smile slip. "He blames me," Harry mumbles, and he slides his hands into his pockets so they won't shake. His eyes feel strained and he'd quite like to rewind the past few days so he and Liam can spend them by his pool or chasing each other through the house or write songs together. Anything but this. "He blames me and he should. He should blame me because it's my fault."

"Harry," Louis says in a warning tone, but for once Harry doesn't let himself get interrupted.

"Of course he doesn't want to come back with me, I'm the one who put him in the hospital," Harry continues, blinking rapidly as he lifts a hand and swipes the back of it over his eyes. "Worst mate in the world. Fucking awful. Course he doesn't want to spend time with me. It's not like I can even blame him or anything."

"C'mon, that's not true," Louis says, sounding a bit outraged but Harry's so lost in his own head he can't figure out who Louis' outraged with.

"You heard him up there, Lou," Harry says sadly. He has to blink a few times to clear his vision which has gone a bit hazy and he rubs his hands quickly over his eyes. "He doesn't trust me. He doesn't want to be mates."

"Liam loves you, you daft twat," Louis says. "You know he does."

The thing is, the thing that scares Harry most of all, is that maybe Liam _doesn't_ love him anymore. Maybe Liam doesn't want to spend time with him anymore or giggle with him over signs they see in the crowds or snuggle up with him after concerts when they're both exhausted but wired. And the worst part is that Harry doesn't even blame him. Normally, when they've had a fight or cross words, he'd just ignore Liam's sulks and snuggle up with him anyway, until Liam sighs and slings his arm around Harry and he knows they're okay. But he can't, not this time. It's the first time Liam's ever said no to spending time with Harry. When they'd been approached to do Trekstock, Liam's face had lit up and he'd grabbed Harry's hand, announcing that they were in without even checking with Harry first. "You'll have to do it with me now," Liam had said happily.

He maybe wants to cry a little.

"Was gonna buy Batman sheets. Stupid, huh?" Harry can at least recognise his own ridiculousness. People really don't give him enough credit. "Buy all his favourite food. Put a bed downstairs for the first few days until he can make it upstairs to the guest room. Zayn threatened to get me a nurse's outfit to wear. To make Liam laugh." He can picture it. Liam's eyes going wide with shock before he bursts into giggles.

God, he's fucked everything up so, so much.

"It's fine," Harry says thickly, even though it's not. It's not fine at all. "Go back up. I'll be up in a minute and we can figure out a new plan. Maybe Zayn can take Liam back to mine and I'll go back to the UK for the promo or something."

He deliberately looks away when he feels Louis staring at him, and he holds himself upright and rigid until he hears Louis sigh and turn to disappear through the door. Which is when Harry deflates, his hand scrambling for purchase against the cool brick wall behind him and he takes a few more deep, steadying breaths.

By the time he's ready to go back upstairs and put a brave face on everything, probably more than ten minutes have passed. But he's calmer and he'll be able to face Liam this time, at least long enough to calmly discuss what Liam wants to do while recuperating, because clearly having Harry look after him won't be an option.

He steps into Liam's hospital room and everyone goes silent, turning towards him with varying expressions. Harry's not sure where to look because Louis looks apologetic, Niall looks upset, Zayn looks worried, and Harry can't even bring himself to look at Liam.

He figures the floor is his best bet.

"We'll give you a moment," Zayn finally murmurs, when the awkwardness in the room has reached unbearable levels and Harry wants to cry. He can't ever remember a time when the five of them had been this ill-at-ease together. Ever.

"You don't have to," he says, somewhat desperately, but they file past him silently. Niall manages a grin but it's not his usual, natural one and it just makes Harry feel worse. When the door closes quietly behind Zayn, Harry turns around, a forced smile on his face as he looks somewhere past Liam at the wall behind.

"Harry," Liam says, but the pressure on his chest is unbearable and he can't do this. He can't let Liam go through the agony of telling him what he already knows, that he's not good enough, for either of their sakes.

"No, it's fine," Harry says quickly. "It's fine. I'll go back with the boys for the interviews and whatever else they've got lined up and one of them can stay here with you. You shouldn't be alone, Liam. Even if you think you'll be okay. Someone needs to look after you." He swallows thickly and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Even if it's not me. Someone needs to make sure you're okay. Yeah?"

"Christ," he hears Liam mutter but he ploughs on because he's dangerously close to falling apart and that's not fair on Liam.

"You can handpick, and use the house," he says somewhat brightly. He digs his fingernails into his thighs through his jeans pocket, the sharp pain keeping him grounded. "Louis' great at making you laugh. You'll need that. Or Niall will keep your spirits up, the doctors said you might get frustrated with the slow recovery and not being able to do stuff for yourself for a bit. Or like, Zayn, because he's your favourite. He's probably got some comic books or movies for you to watch. I've got Netflix so you can download something if you want. Whatever you want."

He's rambling. He knows he's rambling but he can't seem to stop. He wants to be the one bringing Liam fresh soup and telling him terrible jokes just to see him smile. He's strong enough to help Liam move around, unlike Niall and his still weakened knee, or Louis who folds like a piece of paper anytime anyone leans on him. And Zayn, as much as he'd try not to, would probably sleep through most of the morning, leaving Liam either hungry or struggling to get out of bed or use the bathroom.

But he doesn't say any of that. "Anything you want," is what he does say, with a slightly wobbling smile as his gaze drops to the floor and he ends up kicking at his own boot while the room stays horribly, painfully silent.

It's broken when Liam clears his throat. "You," he says quietly.

Harry's already shaking his head though. "No, no you don't," he says. "It's alright, mate. Honestly. It- it's fine."

"I want you to look after me," Liam says, quite clearly. When Harry finally shifts his gaze to look at him, he sees Liam holding out his hand towards Harry. "I do. Promise. Swear to god."

Harry stumbles towards him and his hand closes around Liam's. "Yeah?"

"I didn't like ...," Liam pauses and takes a long, deep breath before trying again. "I didn't want to put you out. Like, you're all banged up too."

"I'm fine," Harry tells him, because honestly he forgets most of the time that he was in the accident too. He's barely looked in a mirror since it happened and Liam's been his focus anyway. "We can hide away together."

Liam grins at that, and he lifts his other hand, wince slightly as he reaches over to tangle his fingers in Harry's hair. He's not sure whether he lowers his head or Liam guides him down, but he winds up sprawled against Liam's chest, his boots kicked off as he curls up next to Liam and breathing easier than he has in days.

"You sure?" he murmurs eventually. He's so relaxed right now he could just fall asleep to the steady rhythm of Liam's chest rising and falling underneath him.

"Yeah," Liam says, sounding half-asleep too. "I thought you'd need to rest too. Course I want you to wait on me hand and foot, mate."

Harry smiles into Liam's shoulder. "I don't mind."

"I'll hold you to that mate," Liam says. His hand settles on Harry's arm and he lifts the covers so that Harry's underneath them too.

"These beds are too small," Harry grumbles when he shifts and almost falls off while he's attempting to not knock Liam's bad leg.

"Don't think they're meant for two," Liam tells him.

Harry thinks that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard, but he's too tired to inform Liam of this travesty. It's only a matter of time before the lads come back anyway, and it's fifty-fifty whether they'll drag Harry off Liam's bed or try to all climb in with them. In the meantime, he's got some serious cuddling to do, and if he slips one of his hands under Liam's shirt to find warm, smooth skin, then it's just a reaction to almost losing his mate and a need to comfort them both. Remind him that Liam's here and breathing and very much alive.

He falls asleep to the steady beat of Liam's heart underneath his palm.

*

Harry hires a driver to take them back home. The lads left yesterday, leaving Liam in his care and the responsibility is already weighing heavily on him.

Louis had tried to convince him to drive them both home, but Harry had flat-out refused. He'd also spent four hours at home two nights ago researching the safest make and model of cars available in the US and possibly being a _slight_ diva and demanding the driver with the safest road safety record. He'd been told, of course, that all the drivers were safe but Harry had charmed the name out of the manager and waiting for them outside the hospital are the safest pair of hands Harry could find to get Liam home.

Liam's bouncing in his wheelchair, practically vibrating with energy at the prospect of getting out of the hospital. Harry's pushing him at his own insistence while the nurse next to him carries the crutches Liam will need when they're home.

"Almost out," Harry murmurs, his hand moving from the wheelchair handle to Liam's shoulder. It's enough pressure to have Liam going still as they head for the glass doors of the exit, where Harry can see the dark car waiting for them, the driver standing there ready for them.

Harry knows Liam hates hospitals. He hates the reminder of his childhood and Andy after the fire. He's as eager to get Liam out of these place as Liam is, but he needs to make sure Liam doesn't hurt himself in his impatience.

He has to physically put himself between Liam and the car to stop Liam from launching himself up, instead handing Liam his crutches and putting his hand carefully on Liam's back, guiding him the two hobbling steps it takes Liam to crawl into the car.

Harry can't even focus on how badly Liam's panting just from those two steps when he slides in next to him. Liam's pale and there's a thin film of sweat coating his skin. Harry hands him a bottle of water provided in the car and launches into a long, rambling, meandering story about how he'd broken down the first time he'd taken his motorcycle out on these roads. It doesn't make Liam laugh like he'd hoped it would, but by the time they're pulling into his gates Liam's colour is more normal, most of the water has gone and he's managing a smile, if pinched, smile.

"Alright?" Harry asks, leaning in so only Liam can hear him.

Liam's hand fumbles as it searches for his, finally capturing it with a soft sigh of relief. "Think it was worse for you than me," Liam tells him, and Harry thinks it's probably the absolute truth. He's felt sick for the past 20 minutes but now that the car is pulling to a halt and the driver slides out to open Liam's door, he can draw in an easier breath.

"Just glad to be home," Harry tells him. Liam smiles at him like he knows Harry is lying, but he lets go and takes hold of the crutches Harry holds out for him.

Turns out Liam's kind of an expert on crutches, as it goes. "Ruth broke her leg and Nic was always twisting her ankle," Liam tells him, his breathing heavy by the time they've reached the front door. Harry opens it quickly, his hand on the small of Liam's back as he follows him inside. "Think we ended up stealing a pair of crutches from the hospital in the end. Reckon they're still at mum and dad's house."

"Who knew the nice Payne's were living a life of crime, behind their kind smiles and loving family dynamic?" Harry teases, his eyes sharp as he tries to bear some of Liam's weight without much luck. Mostly he thinks he's just getting in the way.

Liam comes to a halt in the middle of the foyer, panting as he looks up. Harry takes the opportunity to steal under his arm, bracing himself as he forces Liam to lean on him heavily. Sometimes it's the only way to deal with Liam. "Nice house," Liam says softly.

"You can look at it properly later," Harry tells him because he's not interested in showing Liam his home anymore. He just wants to get Liam tucked up in bed and maybe force some nice asparagus soup down his throat. His mum highly recommends it as a remedy for anything, and Harry never likes to disagree with her if he can help it. He nudges Liam to the right and they set off slowly, Liam using one crutch while Harry takes the other, making Liam lean on him for most of it until Harry can lower Liam onto the guest bed he'd had moved down here in the living room for Liam until he can manage stairs. By the looks of it, it might be longer than either of them imagined.

"Bathroom's next door," Harry says. He can see Liam weighing up the distance, followed by a sharp nod.

Harry lets Liam take a breather, reclining on the bed as Harry fusses around the room, disappearing to grab Liam's painkillers from the hospital as well as a glass of ice cold water and some fruit, which he puts down next to Liam's bed even as Liam grins weakly at him.

"Stop laughing at me," Harry grumbles as he moves towards Liam and reaches for the hem of his shirt.

"Hey," Liam protests, batting his hands away. Or at least he tries, since Harry's pretty determined. "What are you doing?"

"Pyjamas," Harry says firmly. "Nice, soft, cotton pyjamas, since you're going to be stuck in bed for at least the next week."

"No way," Liam says even as he leans forward, placing his palms on the bed for balance as Harry finally gets his shirt up around his torso. Between them, they manage to get it over Liam's head and he collapses against the bed like a deadweight.

"Yeah, because you're not as weak as a kitten," Harry says dryly. He moves to the foot of the bed, making light work of tugging Liam's boot off and tugging his joggers down carefully over his hips with Liam's help, arching off the bed long enough for Harry to get them down and over his cast. "Boxers on or off?"

Liam flushes at that, to Harry's surprise. "Are you kidding?" Harry asks incredulously. "Liam, aside from my own dick, I've probably seen yours and Niall's more than anyone else's in the world. Mate, I've fondled yours in front of thousands of screaming fans."

"S'different now," Liam mumbles, bright red now and looking uncomfortable enough that Harry decides to leave it be, despite his curiosity.

"Can you wriggle out of them?" Harry asks as he steps back and mulls over the logistics. "I can uh, drape a towel over your hips? You know, like when you get a massage?"

"God this is so embarrassing," Liam says before he huffs out a laugh but it's a bit sharp and there's a twist to his lips that Harry doesn't recognise. "Yeah. Yeah a towel would be great, Harry."

Harry lets his hand drop to Liam's wrist, his fingers circling Liam's skin until his thumb and forefinger meet. "Hey," he says softly. He's all for browbeating Liam when he needs to be pushed to do things for his own good, but there's a fine line here that he doesn't want to cross. That he can't cross. "Hey, it's alright. Whatever you want, yeah? Whatever you're comfortable with."

Liam closes his eyes, and Harry does his best to try not to feel shut out. Pushed away. "I just," Liam says before he stops and swallows hard. "I just feel helpless, like this. And naked as well, it's just a lot. I can't like- look, I know it's ridiculous. I know _I'm_ being ridiculous. But. Yeah."

"I get it, Liam," Harry says, because he does. He'd be the same way, he thinks. "I'll just get a towel, yeah?"

Liam nods, his eyes still squeezed shut as Harry disappears into the bathroom down the hall, returning with a huge bath sheet that he folds in half and lays over Liam's hips and most of his chest.

"Thanks," Liam mumbles. His hands disappear under the towel, fumbling around and it's awful, watching Liam struggle and to see the frustration growing on his face and in his eyes as it takes forever for him to wrestle his boxers down. Harry waits until they're down around his thighs before he steps forward and pulls them all the way down, ignoring Liam's hands as they curl into fists and bang uselessly against the mattress. He grabs the pyjama bottoms that belong to a set his aunt bought him two years ago and he's never worn, and never had the heart to tell her that he sleeps naked, and slides them up Liam's leg, being overly cautious not to bump his broken leg as he gets them up high enough around Liam's thighs that Liam can get them the rest of the way up. He'd already slit one of the legs to make it easier to get them over Liam's cast.

They're both relieved when Liam finally flops back, looking pale and exhausted against the white sheets.

"You should sleep," Harry tells him, unable to resist stroking his hand over Liam's hair. It's grown out a bit, he thinks idly. It's softer. He likes it softer.

"Yeah, okay," Liam murmurs. He slightly leans into Harry's touch and it makes Harry's belly swoop just a little.

"Yell if you need anything," Harry says, knowing that Liam won't. He drops a quick kiss on the top of Liam's head before he moves around the bed to close the curtains, shutting out the bright LA sun. "I'll be within shouting distance."

Liam makes a face at that, like he wants to disagree with Harry babying him and honestly, Harry knows he's overdoing it but Liam came home with him. Liam's letting Harry look after him and Harry really, really doesn't want to screw up. At all.

"Thanks Hazza," is all Liam says though.

Harry closes the makeshift bedroom door behind him and collapses against it, his eyes squeezed shut and his sweaty palms flat against the cool, hard wood. He's got a childish urge to call one of the lads and ask them to come back. He wants to tell them that it's too hard. That he's not cut out for this. He's not pushy like Louis, or soothing like Zayn. And no one can say no to Niall. He's just Harry, obnoxious and charming and not equipped to deal with Liam, who won't even let Harry put pyjamas on him.

Liam, who he's cheerfully groped in front of a stadium full of screaming fans, who he's seen casually naked on more days than not wandering around the tour bus or hotel rooms because none of them have any sense of personal boundaries anymore. Liam, who he's been imitating bloody blowjobs onstage with for the past month because it makes Liam giggle and Harry's always been a sucker for that sound.

And now Liam won't even let Harry help him when he's vulnerable. When he's in pain and need of a friend, and apparently Harry doesn't quite make the grade anymore. Everything feels like it's upside down and inside out, and Harry doesn't know where that leaves him.

Deciding that the best thing for him to do is distract himself, he heads to his office, such as it is, which mostly means it a room with a desk in it that he vaguely remembers choosing under Nick's advice, and boxes full of folders and files that his accountant keeps sending him and he keeps ignoring for as long as possible. More boxes to unpack, he thinks crabbily.

He chooses to keep ignoring them though as he grabs the first piece of mail from the top of the neatly stacked mail his housekeeper has left him and starts to read.

*

Two hours later, his pile is vastly diminished and he feels like he's actually accomplished a few things. He's only checked on Liam three times, which he thinks shows incredible restraint on his part. He's starting to understand all those times Louis' phoned him, sitting beside one of his sisters cribs or now by Ernest's crib, just watching them breathe.

"What if they stop?" Louis had whispered to him once, after Harry had almost fallen asleep on the other end of the phone when neither of them had spoken for a while and it was like, 2am.

"They won't stop breathing, Lou," Harry had told him solemnly.

"Not if I'm watching them," Louis had replied. Harry remembered rolling his eyes fondly but he'd stayed on the phone with him anyway, until he'd passed out at some point, waking up with his phone stuck to his face and Louis long gone.

It's not like he's expecting Liam to stop breathing or anything. He's not crazy. But he just likes to stick his head around the door, holding his breath until he can hear Liam's soft breathing filling the room. Louis would tell him it's only natural after the accident, Harry assures himself as he heads for the kitchen and deliberately does not glance at Liam's door as he passes it. He starts putting together a sandwich while he heats the asparagus soup he might have made earlier while trying to read an ambassador proposal for L'Oreal. It's now covered in tiny green splotches.

He pours the soup into a bowl and places it on a tray, along with his sandwich and a piece of buttered bread before he heads into Liam's room.

"Time for lunch," he says brightly, placing the tray down on the bedside table as Liam blearily opens his eyes. He still looks awful, pale and tired and his eyes look almost bruised, but Harry's aware that it'll take time for Liam to heal, and this is just the start. "Mum sent me her recipe for asparagus soup."

Liam's gaze flickers up to meet Harry's, and there's an odd expression Harry can't quite decipher. Frowning, he pulls his gaze away and focuses on helping Liam to sit up, ignoring Liam's grumbles as he fixes the pillows behind him and passes him a napkin to tuck into his pyjama top. Harry's spent years memorising every single expression any of the boys have, and Liam suddenly being closed off to him is making his skin itch painfully.

"M'not a baby," Liam definitely mutters under his breath.

Harry smiles at that as he places the tray carefully over Liam's lap and whips the spoon away before Liam can grab it. He puts his sandwich on the floor next to him and sits himself down next to Liam on the bed.

"No," Liam says firmly. His lips are pressed tightly together, he's shaking his head slowly and he's glaring at Harry.

Harry pastes on his most charming, wheedling smile because he knows Liam's never been able to resist it in the past. "C'monnn Liam. Please?"

It's not Harry's first silent standoff with Liam. He's won every single one they've ever had though, so he's pretty confident this time. He's not sure why exactly it's so important for him to feed Liam himself, because he knows Liam can do it. But since he's got a self-imposed ban on watching Liam sleep, he apparently needs this one thing. It's dumb and Liam's clearly going to hate every single second of it, but Harry just needs to do it.

Harry sees the exact second he's won. The way Liam's eyes soften just slightly and he relaxes back into the pillows. "If you spill any hot soup on me, I'm going to kill you," Liam says, by way of capitulation. Harry'll take it.

"How? Beating me to death with your crutches?" Harry teases as he dips the spoon into the spoon before blowing on it.

Liam gives him a look that clearly says _"are you fucking kidding me?"_ but Harry just shrugs before he moves the spoon towards Liam. He watches as Liam opens his mouth, the spoon disappearing into his mouth before he pulls it back and Liam swallows.

"One down, a bowlful to go," Harry says cheerily.

The second mouthful goes just as easily, and by the third, Harry's making aeroplane noises while Liam tries very hard not to laugh.

"Harry!" Liam says in exasperation as Harry swoops in with a chugging train noise on the fifth spoonful.

It's an empty protest and they both know it. When the bowl's empty, Harry reaches for Liam's napkin but Liam stops him with a mild grimace. "I've got this mate," Liam tells him, wiping his own mouth clean. Harry tries not to feel annoyed, but he grabs his sandwich and stands up abruptly.

"I'll uh, let you sleep some more," he says, moving quickly across the room to the door.

"Hey Harry?" Liam calls. Harry pauses, a hand on the doorknob as he turns slightly to look at Liam. "Thanks for lunch."

"You're welcome," Harry says easily. He nibbles on his bottom lip before he adds his own quiet "thank you." He thinks he sees Liam nod and hopes that he gets it. That maybe this healing process isn't just for Liam.

Dinner goes much the same way, with Harry feeding Liam with swooping mouthfuls of the lasagne he spent most of the afternoon making, between calling his mum and assuring her that yes, they're both fine and no, he hasn't killed Liam yet with his cooking, and checking in with Paul to update him on Liam's progress.

Again, Liam doesn't let him wipe his mouth, but Harry's trying really hard to stop being a baby about it.

"What about like, a shower? Or a bath?" Harry asks when he's cleaned up after dinner and he's sitting with Liam, on a chair this time even though it feels horribly far away from Liam. He's got his feet propped up on the bed though and his little toe is touching Liam's good leg, so it's not all bad. "You think we can manage?"

Liam pulls a face. "Think a bath might be easier."

"I think I've got some plastic bags somewhere," Harry mutters, getting to his feet and disappearing into the kitchen. Most things are still in boxes, apart from the bits and pieces he's pulled out, but there are a few dotted around. He waves them around victoriously when he steps back into the bedroom. "Want me to tie them on?"

Liam nods, and Harry takes it as another small victory. He's trying to make sure he asks Liam before he barrels ahead and does things anyway (although he draws the line at feeding Liam. That's non-negotiable, at least for the moment). He takes his time to make sure it's as watertight as he can make it before he sits back, grinning. "Done."

"Thanks mate," Liam says. But he's not looking at Harry when he says it. In fact, Harry realises, Liam's deliberately looking anywhere but at him.

"What?" he asks anxiously. He takes a step back and wrings his hands together.

"Um, I'm gonna have to get, like, naked for the bath," Liam says, and his cheeks are flushing again.

Harry feels that sick feeling again. God. "We'll wrap a towel around your waist," he says, because he's determined to win Liam's trust again if it's the last thing he does. He _has_ to earn it. "And like, bubbles. I have bubbles!"

Liam glances at him, and his lips are turned up in a hint of a smile.

"I'll close my eyes, I promise," Harry swears, resting his hand on his heart. "Scouts honour."

"Well, if it's Scouts Honour," Liam teases, and Harry grins happily. It's a step forward, he thinks brightly. Grabbing a towel, he drapes it over Liam and disappears to run the bath while Liam gets ready. By the time he gets back, Liam's sitting upright on the bed, sweating slightly but wrapped in a towel.

"Ready?" Harry asks briskly. He hands Liam his crutches and forces himself to step back. It's painful, watching Liam get to his feet on unsteady hands and an even more unsteady foot. It's right up there with his least favourite things to do; like seeing his accountant at the end of the tax year and explaining to his mum why he's not coming home for break. But Liam doesn't ask for his help, so Harry doesn't give it, difficult as it is. He can't help the hand that shoots out when Liam wobbles dangerously, and Harry has sudden visions of Liam sprawled out on the floor, in pain and regretting coming home with Harry, but Liam rights himself and gives Harry a tight smile as Harry’s hand falls uselessly to his side.

"I'm fine," Liam says, his voice rough but determined. "Let's go."

Harry nods, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood as he turns and leads the way to the bathroom. It's a slow, painful walk but they get there eventually. Liam has to ditch his crutches on the slippery tiles and after a moment's hesitation that makes Harry want to put his head in his hands and weep, Liam reaches for Harry to help him.

They make it to the bath with Liam hopping gingerly and Harry all but carrying Liam at one stage. But Liam's finally sat on the side and swinging his good leg over the bath. Harry closes his eyes, squeezing them tight so that Liam doesn't doubt him for a second, and there's a thud of the towel dropping to the floor as Liam leans back against Harry, his hands gripping Harry's hands so tightly that he winces, but somehow Liam winds up in the bath, his modesty protected by the bubbles and his broken leg hanging over the bath edge.

"Is it safe to look?" Harry asks as he slides his hands away.

"Yeah," Liam says quietly.

When Harry does finally look, he keeps his gaze locked firmly on Liam's face. "Do you need me for anything else or have you got this?"

Liam fidgets for a second before he sighs. "You could keep me company, if you don't mind," Liam says. His smile is tired, but it's natural and that's why Harry finds himself sitting on the closed loo seat while Liam shuts his eyes and leans back with a sigh.

He's watching Liam so vigilantly that he can see the stress and strain drain away from his face while he lies there. He's never really known Liam to take a bath; Liam's always complained that they take too long to run and what's the point of just lying there when he could be in and out of the shower in five minutes and ready to go? Harry gave up trying to extol the advantages of a nice, long, relaxing bath sometime during their first tour.

"Better?" he ventures when Liam looks like he might be nodding off.

"Yeah," Liam murmurs, his voice drowsy to Harry's delight. Sleep is good, he thinks. Healing.

"Want me to light a candle?" he teases gently. Liam's soft laugh is enough to make him smile properly for what feels like the first time in days. Weeks, even. "I've got jasmine or vanilla or cinnamon, somewhere."

"No, this is fine thanks," Liam says, cocking open one eye to look over at Harry. "Starting to see why you like these so much though."

"S'even better when you share," Harry says without thinking. When he hears Liam's giggle and looks up, his cheeks start to flush and he swears low and under his breath. "No like, with a ... oh shut up you know what I mean."

A companionable silence settles over them and Harry eventually tips his head back and closes his eyes. Candles would make this better, he thinks idly. Create a better ambiance for Liam's first venture into baths á la Harry. He can hear Liam moving around, probably washing he realises when he hears water sloshing around.

"Uh, Harry mate?"

Harry opens his eyes and looks up at a sheepish Liam, his head full of shampoo. "I can't uh, wash this out."

Grinning, Harry clears his throat. "That's a shame, mate. What are you gonna do then?"

Liam shoots him a filthy look. "Harry. Mate. Can you pretty please with a sugar on top, please rinse my hair?"

Harry gets to his feet gracefully and strolls over to the sink, picking up the cup sitting there and moving over to sit on the edge of the bath. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he murmurs, but he can't quite contain his delight since Liam's rolling his eyes. "Don't forget to tell the boys how well I'm looking after you."

He dips the cup in the water and cups a hand around the back of Liam's head for him to lean into. It's oddly intimate. His thumb brushes against Liam's scalp as he tips the water carefully over Liam's hair, watching the suds drip down into the bath. He dips the cup again. "S'good," he tells Liam quietly, for no particular reason except he needs to say it. He gets an answering hum as he repeats the process, enjoying the feel of Liam leaning on him, eyes closed and head tipped back, relaxed and humming every now and again.

When he's certain that the shampoo is all gone, he puts the cup on the floor and runs his free hand through Liam's hair. It earns him another hum and he scratches Liam's scalp gently, just to hear Liam groan helplessly.

"Don't stop," Liam moans as Harry tips him back upright and stands up. "Tease."

Harry leans over to unhook the plug, wrapping it around the taps and out of the way. "If you're good, I'll lie in bed with you and scratch your head until you fall asleep."

"Feeling less like a child and more like a pet dog," Liam says.

Harry reaches behind him for a towel and hangs it on the side of the bath before he moves behind Liam and hooks his arms around his waist. "You're going to have to guide me," he says, because getting Liam into the bath blindfolded was fairly simple. Trying to lift him out, not so much.

By the time Liam's standing upright, his towel fastened around his waist and Harry helping him to the door, Harry's shirt is damp with sweat and exertion and he's about ready for his own lie-down. They make it to Liam's bedroom and both of them flop down on the bed together, breathing heavily.

"Need to put my pyjamas on," Liam says eventually, sounding thoroughly annoyed by the thought of getting dressed. Harry doesn't blame him, but he's not sure why Liam's telling him, since Liam won't let him help.

"Yeah," is all he says. He risks nudging Liam's side with his elbow. "You'll get cold soon."

With a huff that makes Harry giggle, Liam struggles through getting his pyjamas on. Even when he knocks his leg and draws in a sharp breath, Harry just squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that Liam'll ask him for help, but he doesn't.

Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow Liam will love him again and they'll be mates again and Liam will ask for Harry's help. Tomorrow. He just has to get to tomorrow.

Liam falls asleep halfway through an episode of Breaking Bad, Harry's hands brushing idly through his hair. Harry slides off the bed, being careful not to jostle or wake him and doesn't let himself brush a goodnight kiss over Liam's cheek because he's not sure Liam would want him to.

It's a thought that keeps him up most of the night.

*

If he thought things would get easier and Liam would let Harry help him more, then Harry was completely wrong. Harry insists on feeding Liam breakfast, even though it's only toast with jam (raspberry, Liam's favourite), ignoring Liam's grumbles as he chews painfully hard. Liam doesn't let him help when he needs the loo, and Harry winds up following him helplessly, arms outstretched in case Liam falls. Liam spends most of the morning on his phone, calling his parents and his sisters, Andy and a few other mates and Harry thinks he hears Liam calling Zayn too, but his voice is too hushed to hear. Not that Harry's trying to listen in, it's just that Liam's a bit loud on the phone and Harry's working next door, just in case Liam calls out and needs him.

He doesn't even care if Liam wants to have private conversations that he can't hear, he thinks grumpily, arms folded as he glares at the adjoining wall. He feels better when he dive-bombs a spoonful of asparagus soup into Liam's mouth, even if Liam's glaring at him, because he knows Liam secretly loves it.

Liam's expression has been getting darker and darker all day, and by the time Harry's lowering him back into the bath, full of bubbles to conceal his goddamn modesty, Liam's got a clenched jaw and his hands are tight on the sides of the bath.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" Harry asks quietly. To his surprise, Liam nods his head jerkily and Harry hands him the shampoo. He watches as Liam's hands tug through his own hair and it looks a bit brutal to Harry.

Liam hands the bottle back to him and it slaps down hard onto his palm. Harry tries not to yelp in surprise, but it's a close thing. He grabs the cup from the floor and reaches around Liam to hold him up again. The first sluice of water doesn't make Liam hum, but Harry's not expecting it today. He'd mostly like today to disappear as fast as possible so Liam can wake up in a better mood tomorrow. He's feeling pretty ragged himself, desperately and silently urging Liam to just forgive him already and let him help, Christ, but it's useless. Liam's a stubborn wanker most of the time when he decides to be.

It's the second sluice that Harry misjudges, with half of it sliding down Liam's face and making him splutter. Harry helps him upright and hands him a washcloth to rub his face.

"Fuck, Harry, be more careful!" Liam snaps, and Harry's head reels back in shock.

"Sorry," he whispers, feeling miserable, his knees hurting from where he's kneeling on the cold, hard tiles. "I'm sorry, Liam."

He hears a long, frustrated sigh, but he can't look up. He can't bear to see Liam staring at him, hating him, wishing he was being looked after by anyone but Harry.

"No, I'm- god. Harry, look I'm sorry," Liam says on a long breath. Harry feels a wet hand close over his and he turns his palm automatically, sliding their fingers together. It's instinctive and he doesn't even realise he's done it until Liam squeezes his fingers and he looks up. Liam does look apologetic, Harry realises, but he still looks like he's grinding his teeth together. "I'm just tired. And grumpy. I hate not being able to do stuff for myself."

"I know," Harry says quietly. "C'mon, let me rinse the rest of that shampoo out and we'll get you back to bed. Just give it time, yeah?"

"I'm such a shit patient," Liam admits as he tips his head back and Harry curls around him, being overly cautious as he trickles water through Liam's hair. "Mum always says I was awful when I was in and out of the hospital, even as a baby."

"We'll get you back on your feet as soon as we can, yeah?" Harry says as brightly as he can manage.

"Get me out of your hair, you mean," Liam says with a faint grin. It's a terrible pun, but Harry appreciates the effort, even if he doesn't appreciate the sentiment. He's being selfish, but he doesn't want Liam to leave. He doesn't want to be alone.

Much later, when Harry trudges upstairs to his bedroom and crawls into bed, he tells himself that tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

*

Tomorrow, in fact, is not better at all. Liam wakes up in a foul mood, his face marred by a frown that won't lift, no matter how many tricks Harry tries to get him to cheer up. He's not used to this, he slowly realises around midday when he nervously passes the soup to Liam, placing it carefully on his lap and passing him the spoon. He's not used to trying so hard to amuse Liam, or to get a tiny, little smile out of him. Usually, Harry doesn't have to do more than look up to get a wide grin out of Liam, and being faced with Liam's stony stare is not only unnerving, but it's frankly worrying the hell out of Harry.

He's so nervous about Liam's obviously fraying temper that his trembling hands spill hot tea all over Liam and the sheets. Harry stumbles back as his hand jerks again and the tea falls onto the floor, the mug smashing against the floor as Harry stares down at the broken shards numbly.

Shit.

"Oh god," he says, snapping out of his momentary stupor. Liam's chest is an angry, bright red and there's a quickly-spreading tea-coloured stain on his new white sheets. But that's nothing compared to the look on Liam's face. It's a look he's never seen before and it makes Harry take a step back.

"For fucks sake Harry!" Liam shouts, and Harry takes another step back, his heart pounding and his eyes wide as he stares at Liam, who's flushed with anger. "What's wrong with you? I know you're clumsy but fuck! Haven't you hurt me enough? It's not enough that you've broken my bloody leg but you're trying to give me third degree burns too?"

Harry feels sick. He feels so, so sick.

"I'm already stuck in this stupid fucking bed and I can't get up, so I'm stuck here with you and I can't escape. I can't fucking escape." Liam's hands ball into fists and slam down against the mattress. He's so angry. "Like, what if I'm stuck here forever? I'm nothing if I can't get the fuck up and move and god I just want to be anywhere else but stuck in this stupid fucking bed."

"I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, but he's certain Liam doesn't hear him.

"I just want to go home." Liam closes his eyes and screws up his face. Harry takes a step back, and another until he feels the wall behind him, his hands flattening against it with relief. "I don't want to be here. I don't. I can't be here."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers and then he's by the door, his hand on the cool handle and he steps outside into the hallway. He doubles over, his breathing harsh in the silence of the house, his hands on his knees as he tries to remember how to breathe normally. In and out. In, and out. Oh god. He knew Liam blamed him, but hearing Liam actually say the words, and feeling how much animosity Liam felt towards him is unbearable. His chest physically hurts and he feels weak. So fucking weak.

He slides down onto the floor, his head bent between his legs because he vaguely remembers Paul telling Niall to do that a few times when Niall's had a panic attack and he's not sure if that's what's happening to him but he's definitely panicking. Liam hates him. Liam hates him and Harry doesn't know what to do. Liam's never hated any of them before. He's been endlessly confused by them, a bit frustrated with Louis a few times and they've all argued over the years. But now Liam hates him and he's so, so angry with Harry, and Harry doesn't know what to do.

He sits there until his legs seize up in pain and his neck hurts from where he's resting his chin on his arms, hugging his knees. He sits there until it's almost dark and he hasn't heard a single sound from Liam's room in hours. He sits there until he hears movement, of sheets rustling and crutches against the floor, of curses and fists hitting the mattress and crutches being thrown down.

Harry ignores the aches and the sharp pain in his head as he stands up, allowing himself a few seconds to shake his body back into awareness before he steps inside the room. He flicks the light on, avoiding looking at Liam, already in his towel and he's somehow managed to get the bags around his cast, as Harry picks up the crutches where they lay haphazardly on the floor and passes them to Liam, careful not to touch him.

Christ, he just wants to _touch_ him. He's never held back before, not even when Liam used to flinch away back in the early days. Back when Liam wasn't used to having a lads hand on his hip or fingers dancing across his neck. Back when Liam wasn't used to having boys manhandle him or crowd into his space until there was no way of separating them.

It hurts. It hurts more than anything else, Harry realises. That easy touch that Harry's never thought twice about before, and now it's just gone. He doesn't have the right to touch Liam now.

His fingernails dig painfully into his palms until he wants to cry out with how much it hurts.

It's obvious pretty quickly that Liam can't stand up while holding the crutches, so Harry moves, kneeling down in front of Liam and holding the crutches still. It's enough though, Harry's strength holding the crutches as Liam painfully drags himself up. When Harry's certain that Liam's not going to keel over, despite the way his hands are trembling around the crutches, he stands up and follows as Liam makes slow progress towards the bathroom.

Inside, Harry turns around to fill the bath, being more liberal than usual with the bubble bath as Liam waits silently behind him. There's an awkward shuffle as Liam slides past him, then he hears the towel drop as Harry stares resolutely at the door and counts silently in his head, trying to time it with his erratic heartbeat in a vain effort to calm himself a little.

Liam clears his throat, and Harry turns slowly. Liam's on the edge of the bath, still pale and a thin sheen of damp on his skin. Harry swallows carefully, keeping his head ducked as he very gently, helps Liam swing his good leg into the bath.

He hesitates for a few moments before he slides his arms around Liam and bears his weight as Liam's lowered into the bath.

Harry flees out of the bathroom as quickly as he can, breathing heavily as he rubs at his stinging eyes. He needs to call Paul or Louis. He needs to swap with one of the boys, one of them needs to fly back so he can go to London and Liam can be looked after properly by someone he trusts and loves.

Christ.

He'll do it tomorrow, he promises himself. Tomorrow will be better.

"For fuck's sake!"

Harry jerks, his hand closing around the handle before he can stop himself or second-guess the move. Liam's got a head full of shampoo and his hands are gripping the edges of the bath.

"I can't rinse it out," Liam grits out, like it pains him to even suggest that he needs Harry's help.

Determinedly ignoring the sharp pain of rejection, it'll stop hurting eventually he thinks, Harry picks up the cup and fills it with water. He has to hold onto Liam to tip him back, and Liam grabs onto his arms like he's afraid Harry's going to let him go. Harry wants to cry at the fucking irony, because Liam's slipping away from him and he never wants to let Liam go. Ever.

He's efficient in a way he didn't know he could be, rinsing Liam's hair without splashing him once, draining the bath and helping Liam out again. He follows Liam back to his room before heading to the kitchen. He makes chicken and rice, Liam's favourite healthy meal, and takes it in to Liam, laying the tray over Liam's lap with the utmost care before he retreats to eat his dinner alone, for the first time since Liam's been out of the hospital.

Harry clears Liam's tray, taking twice as long to wash everything up before he heads to bed. After tossing and turning for hours, after he's memorised his ceiling and texted Grimmy a good morning, he finally falls asleep somewhere around dawn.

*

He drags himself tiredly out of bed, running his hand through his unruly hair and rubbing his eyes as he sleepily makes tea and pours Liam's cereal. Yawning, he opens the door to Liam's room to find Liam awake, the telly on low and tuned to some news channel. Liam's boredom must have reached new heights, Harry realises guiltily. He really needs to call Paul as soon as possible. After a shower, Harry tells himself. He'll feel better after a shower. And coffee, probably. More awake and ready to deal with this situation like an adult, instead of hiding away and futilely hoping that Liam's going to wake up and forgive him.

He hands Liam the steaming mug of tea and puts the tray over his lap again. He's still being careful not to touch Liam and he disappears quickly to make his own breakfast, sitting at his kitchen table as he eats alone, staring out of the window and trying to work himself into the right mood to call Paul.

When he goes to collect Liam's tray, he almost convinces himself that Liam wants to talk to him, but it's clearly a trick of his mind because Liam stays silent, of course, and Harry throws their dirty plates and cups in the sink before he heads to the shower.

Even drawing his shower out twice as long doesn't help. When he's dressed and made another cup of coffee, he heads outside with his phone and sits down on his lawn chair, his thumb brushing idly over the screen of his phone with no real intent to make any calls. He just wants to be selfish for a few more minutes. He wants to be selfish and stay with Liam, stay within shouting distance and reassure himself that Liam's really getting better, that Liam's alright, that he hasn't done lasting damage to Liam, even though Liam clearly wants to go home and forget Harry and this awful, terrible trip.

All he'd wanted was to have Liam come stay with him, because this place hadn't felt like a home without the boys around. He'd selfishly wanted to fill his house with Liam, to have Liam be a part of this new part of his life. To have Liam's snapback thrown idly on the kitchen table along with one of Harry's bandanas. He'd wanted to picture Liam sprawled out on his sofa and annoying Harry in the kitchen, teasing him while Harry made elaborate dishes because cooking for one just wasn't any fun.

He'd wanted to argue with Liam over what to watch on the telly because Liam would want to watch whatever reality show he's obsessed with right now, while Harry would argue on principle but give in and convince Liam to make tea as a concession.

Now all he's got is Liam, hurt and angry, shouting at him and horrible, awkward silences.

When his phone rings, Harry stares at it for a second in surprise, before he shakes himself out of it. Sighing, he answers it.

"Hey Lou." This is it, he realises. When Liam's going to leave and take four years of friendship, of family, away from him. "What's up?"

"Liam's not answering his phone." It's half accusatory, half questioning, but it's a flat statement.

"Oh." It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it does all the same. "We uh, I need to talk to you about Liam."

"He's alright though?" Louis asks quickly.

"Yeah. I mean he's hating being cooped up and not being able to do anything, but physically he's fine," Harry says.

"Okay," Louis says slowly and Harry can practically hear Louis' mind racing from across several thousand miles. "So what's the problem, Harold?"

"He uh, I think like, maybe he should go home," Harry says quickly. Like a plaster, he tells himself. Rip it off fast and it hurts less. Except it doesn't. "You could come get him and fly home with him. I'll pay, or whatever. Like, just he wants to go home."

"Okay, ignoring the fact that I've got as healthy a bank balance as you, you wanker," Louis says dryly, "what's happened?"

"He wants to go home," Harry repeats on rote. "He'd be better at home. Like, his mum would be much better at looking after him than I am. I don't know why I thought I could do it, Lou. He needs someone better than me. He shouldn't have to suffer because I'm a shit nurse."

There's dead silence on the other line.

"Just come get him, Lou, please," Harry says a little desperately. "Please."

"Harry," Louis says. It's his _tell me everything now_ voice. Harry knows it all too well.

"He hates me," Harry says, his voice dropping to barely a whisper because he can't bring himself to say it out loud, not properly. "He blames me and he wants to go home. He can't even look at me."

"No he doesn't," Louis says firmly.

"He does," Harry says. "He fucking does. He yelled at me yesterday. He says I've hurt him enough, and I have. I don't trust myself, Lou. I can't hurt him anymore. I broke him. I fucking _broke_ Liam. Do you know how hard that is? Liam hasn't broken in four years, and I've done it. I've broken _Liam_. I wanted to fix him and I can't. I can't fix him because I'm the one that broke him and he's, like, he hates me."

He's not crying, he's not. His eyes are wet and he swipes his hand across them and it's fine because he's not crying. He sniffles quietly. "He hates me and I can't bear it, Lou. I can't fucking bear it."

"Harry," Louis says calmly after a moment. "Shut the fuck up. Liam loves you, you dick. He fucking loves you and he wouldn't even know how to hate you if he tried. He's just tired and cranky from being stuck in bed, I bet. It's Liam, you know he hates sitting still. Take him out, even if it's just the garden, okay?"

And there are things about Liam that Harry doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how Liam can still get excited like a small child when a new Batman movie comes out. He doesn't understand why Liam's face always, always lights up when any of them mention his name onstage. He doesn't understand how Liam still fights for his privacy like he can change the world, rather than just accepting their lives for what they are. But he does understand how Liam feels, right this second, about Harry.

"No, you, uh you need to come get him," Harry says, closing his eyes and biting down hard on his bottom lip nervously. "Please Lou. Come get him."

"Nope," Louis says brightly and the line goes dead.

Harry huffs out a short, sharp bark of laughter before his head drops into his hands. One more day, he tells himself. He'll give himself one more day, then he's calling Louis or Paul or whoever will listen, and he'll make them take Liam home.

One more day.

*

One day turns into four days. They're still not talking, but Harry's discovered he has masochistic tendencies, whereby he wants Liam to stay with him, even if it's in torturous silence and with barely a whole hour spent together between serving meals and helping Liam to the bathroom to shower. It also turns out that Harry's a bit of a creepy voyeur, since he likes to sit outside Liam's room and listen to him watching the telly or humming a tune he doesn't recognise. Harry's not sure he's ready to hear any songs that come from Liam's recuperation time, but of course Liam's using this time to be productive. More productive than Harry anyway, since he mostly spends his days creeping around Liam's room or watching cooking shows or trying not to call his mum and whine to her about how awful everything is.

He calls Louis every morning, and every morning the conversation goes like the first one. It's comforting, in a strange way. But nothing's changed between him and Liam. Liam still won't look at him and Harry's chest still hurts all the time.

On the fifth morning, after he's spoken to Louis and Niall, who've decided that the best way to deal with Liam and Harry is to gang up on them, Harry slips into Liam's room and instead of stepping inside to clear away his breakfast things, he pauses before moving towards the curtains, throwing them open and staring out into the garden while he tries to find his resolve.

"Do you want to go sit in the garden today?" he asks, his voice a touch gruff. He clears his throat and crosses his arms, his fingers clutching at his elbows painfully. "It's a nice day. You could get some sun and enjoy the view."

The silence between them seems to claw at Harry's skin until he's about to turn around and take it all back.

"Yeah," Liam says quietly. "I'd like that."

Harry tries not to sag in relief, holding himself tightly as he wonders if this counts as a tiny victory. "The views are one of the reasons I wanted to buy this place," he says, finally turning around and blindly reaching for Liam's cereal bowl and mug. He really doesn't want to mess this up again and stumble back three paces. "You know I love a good view."

"Yeah," Liam says. "I know."

It's dumb and stupid but Harry feels a warm, happy little glow inside, and his lips curve into a smile. He ducks his head as he races out of the room, throwing everything haphazardly into the dishwasher before he grabs the counter and just breathes in for a second. He doesn't want to get his hopes up or anything, but maybe Louis' right.

He showers and dresses in record time, tying his hair back with a bandana so it's out of his eyes before he heads back into Liam's room, desperately trying to pretend that his heart isn't pounding loudly and his hands aren't trembling just a little.

Liam's already dressed and is sitting on the end of the bed. Harry risks a glance at Liam's face and he looks like he's trying not to get too excited. Harry's grin widens a little and he reaches for a snapback from Liam's suitcase and carefully places it over Liam's head, not letting his hands linger like they want to in Liam's hair, or to trail over Liam's neck in some weird possessive way.

"Ready?" he says instead, stepping back and letting Liam pull himself up, which they'd discovered he could do yesterday. Harry suspects it's from sheer force of will rather than strength, but honestly it could be either.

He gets a sharp nod before Liam's agonizingly standing himself up and Harry leads the way through the house and out into the garden. He grabs a lawnchair and positions it where he likes to sit in the evenings, with a view of the ocean that seems to stretch on forever. It's not a view he'd ever thought he'd have, back when he lived at home and was trudging to school every day. The ocean seemed a million miles away, and he suspects Liam feels the same. But it's here, within reach, his own little patch of the world that is now Liam's too, at least for as long as he's staying.

Once Liam's settled in his chair and he's got his head tipped back towards the sun, a smile playing on his lips and his eyes closed, Harry heads back into the house, his heart lighter even as he busies himself with changing Liam's bedding. He strips the bed easily, grabbing Liam's dirty washing as well as he heads back into the kitchen and throws everything into the washing machine. Harry airs out the room, finding himself humming as he grabs new sheets and starts making the bed again. He knows he's grinning stupidly and it's not even like him and Liam are even talking properly yet, but it feels like a small breakthrough and he'll take what he can get right now. Anything that makes Liam happy is totally worth it.

He plumps the pillows and stands back to admire his handiwork. "I'm a domestic goddess," he says cheerfully with a laugh before he heads back into the kitchen to make lunch.

Harry eats alone in his office while Liam enjoys the garden, but he can hear Liam talking to someone on the phone every now and again and he seems to be a bit happier, so Harry grins his way through his cheese and pickle sandwich. The afternoon passes slowly, but Harry's happy enough lying on the sofa in his office, blaring music out loudly enough that he's sure Liam can hear it. It's all new stuff Grimmy and Ed have been sending him that he's downloaded and never listened to, but most of it is exactly his kind of music because his mates are brilliant like that and he's certain that while half of it probably won't end up on Liam's iTunes, the other half probably will.

After he's given Liam dinner out on the decking and cleared everything away, he heads back out with the plastic bags for Liam's cast and wraps them carefully around his leg. He can feel Liam silently watching him and it makes him feel flustered and all thumbs. He secures the bags eventually and waits for Liam to stand up, following him as always into the bathroom.

Liam keeps watching him, which is a weird sensation after days of no eye contact or conversation, and Harry can feel his cheeks getting hotter as Liam soaps himself up in the bath. Not that Harry's watching. By the time Liam's ready to climb out, Harry's flushed and nervous and the walk back to Liam's bed seems to take longer than usual.

"You made the bed," Liam says in surprise, halting halfway across the room.

"I'm a domestic goddess," Harry says, because he's an idiot and Liam's always loved that about him.

They make it to the bed and Liam puts his hand on Harry's shoulder as he lowers himself down onto the bed, leaning on him. Harry swings Liam's legs up and tucks the blankets up around Liam's waist. He turns to go, a vague thought about maybe progressing to sharing meals again tomorrow when Liam's hand catches his wrist, his long fingers wrapping around Harry and stopping him from stepping away.

Surprised, Harry turns back to face Liam. He feels a sharp tug on his arm and he stumbles forward, somehow finding himself half-sprawled onto the bed, his hands either side of Liam's hips as Harry leans over him.

Liam's hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and Harry closes his eyes at the faint touch. He feels Liam's thumb graze over his skin and Harry leans into his touch, a gasp dragged out of him because Liam's touching him. Finally. He feels like he's been craving this forever. God, he's fucking missed this so much. He hadn't realised how often they do this, the casual touches and grazes of fingers, grounding each other. He hadn't realised at all.

Liam's pulling him in slowly and Harry goes easily, willingly. When he feels a brush of lips against his, no, against the corner of his mouth, Harry's eyes startle open and he sees Liam looking sheepish and apologetic. "I'm sorry," Liam whispers. "I'm sorry for shouting at you, Harry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean a single word of it. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

A sob escapes his mouth and Harry surges forward, pressing his lips against Liam's more firmly. Possessively. "Christ, Liam," he says brokenly, blinking quickly to clear the moisture in his eyes. His hands come up to grab Liam's arms, holding on tightly. Because he's allowed to touch Liam now. Because they're going to be okay. "I'm so sorry. I just want you to get better." He presses another kiss against Liam's lips, needing Liam's touch. "I just want you to be okay and to forgive me." His lips brush over Liam's again, seeking that forgiveness. "I just want you to love me again and to feel close to you because this last week, these last two weeks, god they’ve been awful." Harry leans in and kisses Liam again, his body feeling warmer each time and he chases that feeling. "God I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Liam mumbles against Harry's lips and he feels the sensation right down to his toes. "I missed you so much. I'm so sorry."

"No more apologising," Harry says, leaning back and glaring at Liam fiercely. "Nothing to apologise for."

"Same for you then," Liam says, his hand brushing back Harry's hair where it's tumbled over his bandana and into his face. "Mates?"

"Best mates," Harry insists because he's needy and fuck it, Liam knows he's needy.

"Best mates," Liam agrees, and Harry's heart feels like it wants to burst because Liam never says it. Not about him.

"I'll see you in the morning," Harry says reluctantly, pulling away and standing up. He can't resist bending down though one last time and brushing his lips over Liam's hair. "Sweet dreams."

Liam catches his hand and tangles their fingers together for a second. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry flops into bed half an hour later, grinning into his pillow as he hugs it close.

*

Harry wakes up feeling better than he has in weeks. Possibly months. He bounds out of bed and races into the kitchen to make breakfast, choosing matching bowls and matching mugs for tea. While the water heats, he steps out into the garden and just breathes. There's no weight pressing down on him this morning and he does a little twirl, grinning as he turns his face up into the warm morning sun. On a whim, he plucks a few sprigs of lavender and places them in a tumbler on the tray. He carries the tray into Liam's room where Liam's still fast asleep, sprawled out across the bed. Harry places the tray on the bedside table before he opens the curtains, hearing Liam's grumbling before he turns to find a sleepy-looking Liam, soft and rumpled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Morning," Harry says, moving towards the bed. He ducks down and kisses Liam, a light brush of his lips against Liam's, before he pulls back and hands over Liam's tea.

Liam grins at Harry over his steaming cup, and Harry laughs into his own tea as he sits on the chair next to Liam, both of them flushing as they sip at their drinks and watch each other with absolutely no sense of subtlety.

"What do you want to do today?" Harry asks eventually, breakfast finished and the whole day ahead of them. "Back into the garden?"

Liam nods, throwing back the covers and stretching. "Wanna help me get dressed?"

Harry has trouble breathing for a second. "Yeah," he croaks, reaching over to grab Liam's clothes. "Yeah, I can help you."

"Still weird," Liam mumbles when he's completely naked and Harry's trying to concentrate on pulling Liam's boxers up over his injured leg. He's very deliberately not staring at Liam's dick.

"You're weird," Harry counters. It's lame and Liam gives him a shove, but Harry's horribly, terribly happy and he celebrates getting Liam's boxers up past his hips by kissing his hip gently, his thumb brushing over the skin as he leans back. "There we go. Shorts?"

They spend the entire day sitting in the garden, listening to the new songs Harry's downloaded and bickering over what they like and don't like. Lunch, which was meant to be vegetables and hummus, ends up mostly on the floor when Liam throws a carrot stick at Harry, who catches it in his mouth, to Liam's utter delight. They then waste most of the food by throwing it to each other and mostly missing, but Harry's sides hurt from laughing so hard and Liam looks relaxed and happy, so it's totally worth it.

Everything's perfect until Harry helps Liam into the bath. He's spent most of the past week avoiding looking at Liam's body, aware of how uncomfortable Liam's been with his nakedness. But since he's allowed to now, he perches on the edge of the bath, legs propped on the closed loo seat as he plays with Liam's fingers, his gaze roaming freely.

There's a scar from his surgery, running across his belly. Cuts and bruises are still healing, long, deep scratches zigzagging across his body. Harry's smile fades and he squeezes Liam's hand painfully hard, but Liam doesn't make a sound.

"I'm alright," Liam says softly. "Practically good as new, apart from this stupid leg."

Harry can't seem to make his brain function though. It's not until Liam's dried off and in bed, sweatpants on that Harry shrugs off his own shorts and crawls into bed next to him. He turns his head, pressing his lips against Liam's shoulder before Liam turns awkwardly to face him.

"Hi," Liam says cutely.

"Hi," Harry echoes, pushing Liam gently back against the mattress and shifting so he's half-sprawled over his chest. Liam's hands shift to flatten against Harry's back, warming him and keeping him close.

Harry traces Liam's surgery with his index finger, dipping his head to press a soft kiss against one of Liam's scratches. "I need you to forgive me," he pleads. "Properly forgive me."

"Harry," Liam says on a sigh, reaching up to hold Harry's head in his hands and drawing him closer, until they're breathing the same air, noses pressed together. "Harry, there's nothing to forgive. It was an accident. If anyone's to blame, it's me."

"No." Harry's shaking his head, refusing to let Liam believe it for a second. "No, what? Of course it's not your fault. I was driving. I rented the stupid car."

"I was the one who wanted the car," Liam says, smiling sadly as his thumb brushes over Harry's jawline. "You were right, by the way. I keep making stupid decisions and I need to grow up. I was angry at myself for putting you in danger, that's why I tried so hard to push you away. I don't want you to get hurt because I keep fucking up."

"Don't push me away," Harry says quickly, his hands tightening around Liam's arms like he's trying to bind them together. "Please. Just, just don't, okay?"

"I don't want you to feel responsible for my fuck ups," Liam says. "I don't want to hurt you because of my fuck ups."

Harry closes his eyes, still shaking his head. "No. Just, don't. Don't push me away."

"I'm not," Liam says. "Christ, Harry, I'm not anymore."

He feels Liam pulling him closer, their lips pressing together as Harry clutches at Liam's arms like anchors. He feels Liam's hands sink into his hair and he laughs in quiet relief against Liam's lips. Liam kisses him back and Harry desperately tries to draw in the warmth from Liam's mouth, from the way he's pulling Harry closer, from the way Harry's plastering himself against Liam's chest and kissing him back with all the pent up emotion he's been carrying around for so long.

He feels safe and comforted and so turned on, all at once. His head spins as Liam drags him closer, until they're plastered together and Harry can feel every inch of Liam's taut, firm body underneath his. Liam feels like strength and home and everything Harry's held familiar in the past four years. When Liam's hips push up, Harry lets out a tiny growl, pressing his own hips down and he almost cries with how good it feels. How good Liam feels. He wants to stay here forever, kissing Liam and drowning in this feeling.

Harry keeps making tiny noises of approval, escaping without his knowledge and he's so, so grateful that Liam just wraps his strong arms around Harry and holds him close, enveloping him.

"Harry."

Liam's voice filters through the fog in his brain and he pulls back, blinking slowly to find Liam staring up at him.

"Hi," Harry says, his lips curving into a cheeky grin.

Liam laughs, sounding more carefree than Harry's heard him in forever. It's a sound he's missed without even realising that he's missed it. He's so caught off guard that he finds himself being manhandled by Liam, straddling his waist without much effort on his part at all.

"Hi," Liam says back to him, his eyes lit with mischief. It's a good look on him, Harry thinks as he leans down slightly, resting his palms on Liam's broad chest. It always has been.

"Is this okay? With your leg?" Harry asks. He can feel the cast against his leg and he shifts slightly, putting some space between them. Just in case.

"Yeah, yeah it's fine," Liam assures him, his hands settling on Harry's thighs before he starts to move, stroking up and down in a way that makes Harry want to arch his back and close his eyes. "I thought we could, uh. You know."

Amused, Harry tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "Nope, not got a clue," he says. "We could what?"

In answer, Liam slides his hands up Harry's thighs until his fingers slide under Harry's boxers, making him shudder. It's new, feeling like this with Liam's hands so close to his dick. Normally he's dropping into a defensive position and giggling, but now he wants to arch into Liam's touch, and maybe beg for more.

"Whatever it is, yes," Harry blurts out, falling forward as his palms hit the mattress and he's poised over an eager-looking Liam. God, that's a good look on him too, Harry thinks vaguely before he ducks down to kiss him. "Yes, fuck yes."

It still makes him jump though, when Liam's hand slides into the waistband of his boxers and curls around his dick. "Fuck," Harry mumbles, pressing his face into Liam's neck. "Jesus, Liam."

"Yeah?" Liam asks, sounding a bit hesitant. The only answer Harry's capable of giving him, while Liam's hand is on his dick and he can barely think straight, is to roll his hips up into Liam's hand. There's something utterly ridiculous about the fact that he's straddling Liam's waist, his dick in Liam's hand and his boxers halfway down his arse but he's so fucking hard and he's pretty sure he's going to embarrass himself any second now with how close he is to coming.

Not that he cares, because Liam's stroking his dick, his lips parted as he concentrates and fuck. _Fuck_. "Liam," he pants, closing his eyes as he curls into himself. He comes so fucking hard his head feels like it's going to explode. Harry opens his eyes just in time to see his come stripe over Liam's chest and belly, white streaks that claim their way over Liam's body, Harry thinks, laughing weakly as he lowers his head to rest against Liam's, both of them panting heavily. God, he's such a possessive wanker.

"You," Harry murmurs when he finds his voice. He rolls off of Liam and curls into his side, smiling into Liam's shoulder when Liam's arm slides around him, pulling him closer. He practically purrs when Liam's palm flattens against the small of his back, Liam's fingers brushing idly over the curve of his arse.

"Not tonight," Liam says, sounding half asleep. Harry shifts enough to see that Liam's eyes are closed and his breathing has almost evened out. With a sigh, Harry forces himself to get up and find something to clean Liam up with, wadding the old shirt up once he's done and throwing it on the floor to deal with in the morning. He turns off the light and slides back into Liam's side where he falls asleep, an arm flung across Liam's chest and his foot hooked around Liam's ankle, tethering them together while they sleep.

*

"Told you I'd be a great nurse," Harry says into the phone where it's wedged between his shoulder. He's currently holding Liam's hands while Liam does his physio-approved exercises.

"Last week you were all ready to send the patient home," Louis reminds him, sounding amused. "Niall and Zayn were taking bets on whether Liam would make it to London. Niall put his money on you keeping him, by the way."

Harry grins, crossing his eyes at Liam to make him laugh. Mostly it just throws him off balance and there's a shaky moment where Harry has to use all his strength to keep them both upright.

"Idiot," Liam mutters, but he's smiling.

"Liam's doing really well with his physio," Harry tells Louis. They've been doing these exercises for a few days now, which mostly consist of Harry's muscles aching from bearing Liam's weight and stopping Liam from pushing himself too far, too fast. It's been good for Liam though, to finally be doing something active to get him back on his feet.

"Pushing himself too hard then," Louis says dryly.

"Yep." Harry gently pushes Liam down into his lawnchair. He's not even broken a sweat today, Harry realises. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of Liam's nose as Liam's hands settle on Harry's hips, keeping him tucked between Liam's thighs. "Might have to get those handcuffs out after all."

Liam's flush is totally worth it.

"Uh, Lou? I've gotta go. Liam needs a hand," Harry says, completely straight-faced before he drops the phone onto the table and sinks to his knees. Liam's flush deepens but he shifts, stretching his legs out and spreading them wide. "Well, maybe not a hand, exactly."

He feels Liam's hand slide into his hair and he turns his head to press a kiss against Liam's palm as his hands lift Liam's shirt and tug Liam's joggers down over his hips. Liam's half-hard already, much to Harry's delight. He leans in, nuzzling his face against Liam's belly and breathes in slowly. They haven't done this before, exactly. In the past eight days, they've had their hands on each other's dicks more often than not, by Harry's estimation. He'd woken Liam up that first morning with slow, drugging kisses and his hand on Liam's dick and since then, he'd found handjobs to be a very effective motivator for Liam's recovery, once the physio had been to visit and shown them what exercises to do.

Plus there was all the kissing. Harry is a big fan of all the kissing. He presses a kiss against Liam's softening belly before he shifts, darting his tongue out to lick at Liam's shaft. He hears a vague, painful-sounding hiss but he's not really paying attention because Liam's dick is fascinating. He watches it swell as Liam's hand scratches at his scalp before he closes his fist around the base of Liam's dick and presses his lips against the tip. When Liam lets out a low moan, Harry grins to himself before he opens his mouth and swallows Liam down as far as he can go.

His tongue slides down Liam's length as he gently sucks. Harry closes his eyes and starts to move his head up and down, one hand on Liam's dick and the other clutching at his shirt for balance. It's heady, Harry realises. All he can feel, all he can taste, all he breathe is Liam, and Christ, it's potent. He slides down enthusiastically, perhaps too enthusiastically as he gags around Liam's dick, but he pulls back slowly, coughing as his throat contracts around Liam's dick and makes Liam moan, even as Harry can feel Liam's tugging gently on his hair, trying to check he's okay. Harry blinks up at him, his eyes watering a little but he grins, lips still wrapped around Liam's dick. He tries it again, spluttering as Liam's dick fills his mouth but the way Liam's fingers dig into his scalp each time and the way Liam whimpers helplessly just drive him on. He tries to hold still as his throat contracts around Liam's tip and when he pulls back, he glances up just in time to see Liam come, his throat arched back and his hands buried tight in Harry's curls as he lets out a hoarse cry and bitter, thick come fills Harry's mouth. He swallows politely before he sits back on his heels, swiping and licking at his lips before he hitches himself up onto Liam's lap, tucking him back inside his shorts and making sure his weight rests on Liam's good knee while he folds himself up, his head falling onto Liam's shoulder. He can feel Liam's hands fisting around his shirt and Liam's trembling beneath him. Harry's trying not to feel too smug but he's failing miserably.

"Pretty good, yeah?" Harry asks because he's awful but Liam likes him anyway.

A shaky laugh is his answer, and that's good enough for Harry.

*

"So have you like, done that before?"

They're in bed, because Harry's moved into Liam's room and is curled up next to him, reading Bukowski. It's a testament to four years of living in each other's pockets that Harry knows what he's talking about immediately. He folds the corner down of his page and places the book on the nightstand before he turns, resting his cheek on his hand as he looks straight at Liam, who he thought had been playing on his phone but it's lying between them, the screen dark and locked.

"Nope, first time," Harry tells him, keeping his voice light. "Pretty good for a first attempt though, right?"

"Yeah," Liam says, sounding distracted. He's staring at something down towards the bottom of the bed, but Harry's not fooled.

"I can do better," he says, aiming for teasing. He's almost certain it actually lands somewhere around pleading and faintly desperate. "Practice and all that."

Liam blinks up at him, before his face falls. "No. No! Fuck, Harry of course, like, it was the best I've, like. You know."

Harry feels his whole body start to warm at Liam's earnest declaration. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, course mate," Liam says, and his hand slides over the duvet to cover Harry's. "I just like, didn't know if this was something you did. Like, that you've known about. Yourself, I mean. Or whether it's a, um, experiment. Maybe."

The desire to surge forward and kiss every doubt off Liam's face is strong. Christ, it's so, so strong. But Harry holds back and squeezes his hand instead. "I thought about it. But I didn't know. It's not something I've been hiding from you, Liam. Or the boys. I just, it was just one of those things that I hadn't really decided yet. Still haven't decided yet, if I'm being honest."

"Oh." There's a wealth of feeling behind that one, solitary word that starts with disappointment, veers through anxiety and ends up somewhere near terrified.

"I kind of think maybe I made a decision anyway," Harry continues blithely. "The day of the accident. Or maybe the day after, in the hospital. Or when we came back here. Hell, it could have been two years ago for all I know."

"Yeah?" Liam sounds a bit more hopeful now and Harry grins, ducking down to kiss him long and hard.

"Well, you're really cute," he mumbles against Liam's lips, feeling Liam smile before he kisses him again. "Definitely, _definitely_ not an experiment."

"Me neither," Liam manages to breathe out before his hand slides down Harry's chest and slides into his shorts. "Me too."

Harry huffs out a laugh as he eagerly presses into Liam's touch. "Good."

*

Harry's spent so much time with Liam over the past four years that he thought he knew all there was to know about him. Except for the pleasant surprise of finding out that Liam likes touching Harry's dick as much as he likes Harry touching his own dick.

But he learns that Liam snores when he lays on his back. Since Harry's all but moved into Liam's bed, in account of him crawling into it every night and Liam never kicking him out. But he wakes up most nights to find Liam snoring in his ear. He also learns that a gentle elbow to the ribs makes Liam stop snoring.

He learns that Liam's pretty good at unpacking things and finding the best home for all his crap, but Liam's pretty terrible at actually putting things away. They've unpacked in two of the rooms upstairs and Harry's finally got a varied wardrobe again. He's got framed photographs haphazardly strewn over the house but he likes that. He likes that sometimes he'll turn around and have Gemma beaming back at him, or see his mum smiling up at him. It's nice. It's starting to feel like home.

He learns that Liam likes to tug on Harry's hair, whether they're kissing or Harry's blowing him or they're just watching a movie together and Liam's fingers find their way into Harry's hair somehow. He also learns that he likes it when Liam tugs on his hair.

"What do you want to do today then?" Harry asks as he tugs Liam's shirt down. Since they've been doing this, well, whatever they've been doing, Liam's let Harry do all the things Harry's been itching to do since they left the hospital. Harry loves it.

"Sit in the garden like every day?" Liam says dryly. His hands are curled around the back of Harry's thighs, locking him in between Liam's legs. "Maybe we could invite the boys over. Here. To your place. And just hang out, like we all used to."

"Just like we used to?" Harry murmurs, his hands cupping Liam's face and leaning down for a kiss.

"Maybe not _exactly_ like we used to," Liam concedes with a faint smile before he nips at Harry's bottom lip playfully.

"They'll know," Harry says after a pause. He moves to climb on the bed behind Liam and on a whim, unties his bandana (it's a red and white one today) and wraps it around Liam's head, quickly tying it around Liam’s nape. "Beautiful," he decides, feeling warm all over.

 

"What are you gonna wear then?" Liam asks. His fingers close around Harry's wrist and he tugs gently, forcing Harry forward until he's resting his chin on Liam's shoulder, his arms circling around Liam's waist. "And we could just tell them. Or not. Like, a secret."

"You're terrible at secrets," Harry says. He graciously ignores Liam's snort because okay, he's terrible at lying too. "And I don't know."

"Maybe it'll figure itself out when they get here," Liam says hopefully. "In the meantime, though." He reaches for something and then Harry finds himself wearing one of Liam's snapbacks. He turns it around so it's back to front out of habit before he climbs off the bed and waits for Liam to get to his feet.

"I like it when you wear a snapback," Liam tells him once he's steady on his feet. "You look cute in them."

"Your snapback," Harry clarifies because he thinks it's an important distinction. Or it should be. "My bandana."

"Oh god they're going to figure it out before they walk into the house," Liam realises. He looks more amused than horrified though, so Harry reaches over to boop his cute nose.

"Yep," he says, not even trying to mask his pure glee at the thought. "They definitely are."

*

The night before the boys are due over, they're in Liam's bed, _their_ bed, staring at Liam's pale, skinny, healed leg. It's been five weeks, and Liam had begged and pleaded to get the cast off. It hadn't worked, but at the first opportunity, Liam had kicked up such a fuss about healing better without the cast that the doctor had given in, but he had to visit the physio four times a week and Harry had a brand spanking new list of exercises for Liam to run through.

"We're meant to be back on stage in four days," Liam says, and he sounds like he's in a daze. "There's no way. I can't do it."

"Course you can," Harry says. Liam hasn't missed a single show. Ever. He even sang offstage when he did his ankle in a few months back. "The lads and me, we'll help."

"But it won't be the same," Liam says, turning to bury his head into Harry's shoulder. Harry shifts so he can stroke Liam's back, holding him close. "I won't be _me_ onstage. It's like, what do I do up there?"

"Be you," Harry tells him, because it's the obvious answer, at least to him. "None of us are in this band for our dancing, babe. Go out and sing, blow kisses to every fan you catch the eye of and just take it easy for a bit. Niall managed after his knee surgery, didn't he?"

"I guess," Liam mumbles, his lips tickling Harry's skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

"I think you need a distraction, Liam Payne," he says firmly, shoving at Liam until he's flat on his back and Harry can climb over him, straddling his hips.

"Is that right, Harry Styles?" Liam asks, his hands slipping over Harry's thighs and rubbing gently in long, confident strokes.

"I've been told that I'm a really, really good distraction," Harry tells him with a leer that has Liam giggling, his eyes squinting through his amusement.

"You're saying that like I don't already know it," Liam says, and Harry feels his hand slide up and flatten against his back. "Like you don't distract me on a daily basis. Like you haven't been one big four year distraction in my life."

Harry grins, his whole body feeling like it's about to burst. He leans down, his hands cupping Liam's adorable face as he kisses him. He kisses Liam until he's breathless, until he can feel Liam writhing beneath him. Until he can feel Liam's fingers digging into his hips, until he feels bruised and marked with Liam's touch. Until Liam's hands soften, caressing his tender skin and gliding over his body, lighting fires all over him until he's squirming and Liam's hands are buried in his hair, angling the kiss slightly until Harry's lips are parted and they're just breathing into each others' mouths and all he can hear is the mingled panting noises they're making together.

There's something different about what they're doing right now. It feels like more. It feels like it's almost too much, and yet not enough.

He can feel Liam's heart racing and he wonders if Liam can feel his doing the same. He wants this so much and he's terrified. Absolutely terrified.

When Liam lifts up and captures his lips again, it's softer, slower, gentler, like Liam's savouring the taste of Harry. He feels exposed and open and he wants to draw Liam in closer, to inhale his scent and his taste and make it part of himself.

"Liam," he whispers, and it's shaky and nervous and he blindly reaches for Liam's hands, needing to ground himself. "Liam."

"Yeah," Liam whispers back, and he peppers tiny kisses across Harry's jaw. He lifts Harry's hand and nips at his wrist, smiling when Harry draws in a jagged breath. "I want to."

"Thank god," Harry breathes out, making Liam laugh softly. Liam lets go of his hand and keeps his gaze while Harry leans over him, tugging on the nightstand drawer and rummaging around until he finds the bottle of lube he'd stashed in there two nights ago somewhat hopefully. There's also a pack of condoms that Liam smirks at before Harry throws both of their phones onto the floor. "No distractions."

"Just you," Liam agrees, tugging him down easily for another long, drugging kiss.

"Just us," Harry mumbles against his lips.

Harry's only vaguely aware that his hips are gently thrusting into Liam's until Liam steadies him and slips his hand into Harry's boxers.

"Okay," Harry breathes, leaning his head against Liam's shoulders and trying not to rock into Liam's hand when it closes around him and Liam starts to stroke him with long, confident movements of his hand.

Harry bites down gently on Liam's shoulder, noises of approval escaping his lips as his dick throbs in Liam's hand. He allows himself a minute of pure bliss before he gently pushes Liam's hand away. "Not yet," he murmurs. "Wanna be in you when I come."

And they haven't exactly discussed this. Not sex, and not who's fucking who, exactly. But Harry needs it, he realises. He wants is so fucking much that he can taste it. He wants to thrust into Liam and feel Liam warm and safe around him. He wants to feel Liam come on his dick and take care of him. God, he wants all of it.

Liam whimpers, turning his face towards Harry, blinding seeking his mouth and Harry shifts to accommodate him, his lips parting so he can slide his tongue into Liam's mouth, fucking into it gently until Liam lets out a tiny sob.

"Can I?" Harry asks, suddenly desperate to hear Liam say it.

He feels Liam's nod before he hears Liam's voice, thick and muffled. "Yeah. Yeah, Harry. Please."

He knows he's far too sensitive to have Liam's hands on him, since he feels like he's going to go off like a rocket just at the thought of fucking Liam, and he's certain Liam's just as bad, considering the way he's trembling in Harry's arms.

Luckily, he kind of knows what he's doing, thanks in part to Nick's insistence that they watch gay porn together as a bonding experience, and they'd laughed their way through some truly cheesy old 80s porn. Nick likes to give a running commentary, and Harry had giggled through all of it helplessly. But he'd also realised that he kind of liked it. So of course he'd watched more, in the sanctity of his own home, without the running commentary. And he'd jerked off to it hard enough to realise that maybe this was an option for him.

Liam's going to be really, really thankful for his hours of study, Harry thinks with a grin as he kisses his way down Liam's chest, his lips brushing over Liam's nipple before he sucks gently, laughing softly as Liam lets out a tiny hiss and his hips jerk up off the mattress. Harry's fingers slip into Liam's waistband and he tugs the boxers down, Liam's hard dick springing free and resting fat and heavy against his belly. Harry licks his lips and concentrates on getting Liam's boxers off, biting his bottom lip as he aches to get a taste of Liam. To breathe him in.

When Liam's finally naked, Harry's hands slide up his calves and inside Liam's thighs, parting them gently until Liam's legs are bent and Harry can see everything. Giving in, he drops his head and presses a kiss to the bottom of Liam's shaft and inhales. He can feel Liam tensing, and he glances up with a soft smile.

"Relax," he murmurs. His hand traces calming circles on Liam's hip as he reaches for the lube and slicks up his fingers quickly and efficiently. He's done this to himself enough times over the past few years, and he spares a brief thought about whether Liam has too, either to himself or whether he's ever let anyone else finger him. But since the image of Liam reaching around behind himself to get the angle right is making his brain short-circuit, and he's dangerously close to coming just from thinking about all this, he has to shove the image out of his head until later, when he's definitely going to quiz Liam on his past sexual proclivities later. After.

God -- _after_.

"S'gonna be cold," Harry says a bit blankly because his mind isn't functioning right now.

"Not my first time, Harry," Liam tells him, and god, Harry's mind just  _explodes_ with that knowledge. He turns his head and bites down hard on Liam's inner thigh, unable to stop himself, and he hears Liam's sharp cry even as his index finger circles Liam's hole tentatively. He's sucking the wound gently when he presses inside, Liam clenching around him and letting out a low moan and god, he's so tight. He's tight and warm and Harry can't wait to bury himself inside Liam. He moves his finger slowly, opening Liam up carefully until he can slide another finger inside.

Mesmerised by the sight of Liam clenching around him, like he can't help it, Harry's other hand reaches for Liam's dick, stroking him hard and firm, his hand slick with lube, mixing with the precum leaking from Liam's tip. Liam's moans get louder, and Harry finds himself reacting, wanting to hear more of Liam's noises until he knows them all by heart. Until they permeate his dreams and they become engrained on his memory.

"God, you look so good like this, Liam," Harry tells him honestly. Liam's flushed, his body sweaty and eager, tense with anticipation. He's seen Liam in a million different guises, but this is by far his favourite; naked and willing and desperate for Harry to satisfy him.

He guides a third finger into Liam, his own breathing becoming more shallow as he ruts gently against the mattress to relieve some damn pressure on his aching cock.

"Don't-" Liam stammers, his hand brushing impotently against Harry's where he's stroking Liam. "Not yet. Wanna wait. For you."

Harry closes his eyes and lets the emotion roll over him as he lets go of Liam's dick, his fingers ghosting over Liam's sensitive balls before he grabs Liam's hips, anchoring himself. His fingers are still fucking into Liam slowly as Liam pushes back against his hand, silently asking for more.

When he can't wait any longer, Harry pulls out carefully, wiping his hand on the sheets as he crawls up Liam's long, hard body and presses a fierce kiss against his lips, forcing his tongue inside Liam's as he grinds his dick against Liam's. "Okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," Liam mumbles, his lips curved into a smile that Harry doesn't quite recognise. Liam looks fucked out already, his dick leaking against his belly and his legs spread wide, just waiting for Harry.

Their fingers tangle together for a moment and Harry nuzzles against Liam's neck for a moment, covering Liam's body with his own like a shield. "I think I'm gonna be great at this, you know."

He means it to be funny, to break the tension, and Liam laughs softly just like Harry wanted him to. But Liam's also nudging at him until Harry looks up and Liam can kiss him, sweet and tender. "You'll be the best."

He smiles tremulously before he leans back and rips open the condom wrapper. His hands fumble, since they're trembling so much and Liam takes it from him, suddenly the more confident of the two as he rolls the condom down Harry's cock. Liam even pours the lube over his hands and slicks Harry's dick carefully, while Harry concentrates very hard on not coming right then and fucking there with Liam's hands all over him.

Harry settles finally between Liam's legs, a hand on his dick to guide him in. He pushes in slowly, his eyes never leaving Liam's as he pushes until his head slides in and Liam takes a deep breath. Harry pauses, waiting until Liam nods, and then he pushes, and pushes, and pushes until he's buried deep inside and he needs his own minute to just take in the fact that he's inside Liam. That he's fucking Liam. That they're fucking joined together and yet not close enough for Harry's liking.

"Ready?" he groans out, leaning over Liam as he waits patiently.

"Yeah," Liam tells him almost fiercely, his eyes bright and dazed. "God, you feel so good. I feel full. I didn't know. But god, it's so, so good."

"Same," Harry manages to say as he slides back slowly before thrusting back inside. He wonders if Liam can feel how hard his dick is throbbing, aching for release. He's on the brink of an orgasm already and they've barely started, but Harry can't even feel embarrassed about anything that feels this good. "You're so tight and fuck, Liam I can't. I can't wait."

"Don't," Liam tells him. "Don't wait."

Harry lets out a garbled cry before he starts to move, thrusting in and out of Liam while Liam moans, his knees bending more as he pushes back against Harry. Harry manages to get his fist around Liam's dick and tries to jerk him off in some kind of rhythm, Liam pulsating in his warm, slick hand. He hears Liam's whimpers, driving him on as he pushes in harder, his grip on Liam tightening slightly. "Come on babe," he mutters. "Wanna see you come all over yourself."

Two more strokes and Liam comes with a loud sob, streaks of white pulsing from his dick that land on Liam's chest like a brand. Liam's breathing hard, fighting to keep his eyes open like he's desperate to watch Harry come too.

"Fuck," Harry swears as he tenses, his body locking as he jerks once, twice and comes long and hard on the third stroke, completely spent when he finally collapses down onto Liam's chest, instantly feeling grubby and dirty as he feels Liam's come slick against his skin.

He feels fucking amazing and he never wants to move. Ever.

Eventually though, Liam nudges at him and pulls him upwards, both of them wincing as Harry slides out of Liam and reaches down to deal with the condom before he settles more comfortably on Liam's chest, his leg thrown over Liam's and they cuddle together.

"You know," Harry mumbles, when he can finally talk again, "I'm pretty competitive."

Liam chuckles at that, and Harry thinks about swatting him but he's too blissed out to want to move.

"So if like, that wasn't the best sex you've ever had, then I'll have to try harder next time."

Liam hums thoughtfully. "Well," he says, sounding amused and Harry needs to kiss him right now just because. "Practice makes perfect, and all that."

It's an echo of Harry's first blowjob, and he's a fucking expert at those now, judging from the way Liam falls apart so easily and beautifully in his arms now.

"We're good at practicing," Harry mumbles, feeling drowsy. He could sleep like this, wrapped up in Liam's arms. He feels safe, and protected. Warm, but in a good way. "Excellent at practicing."

"I do love practice," Liam says around a yawn. "We should practice in the morning. Before we head to the airport."

"Sounds perfect," Harry tells him before he curls his hand around Liam's shoulder. "Now go to sleep."

"Okay," Liam whispers, and Harry feels lips brush over his curls, making him smile. "Goodnight, Harry."

He's fast asleep before he can mumble the words back.

*

The boys arrive and it's mayhem for a good few hours. Harry's belly hurts from laughing so hard, and every time he steals a look at Liam, he's laughing and curled around one of the other lads.

Harry thinks he's doing pretty well at not being terribly jealous, all things considered.

It's not until Harry drags Liam into the kitchen under the pretence of making tea, shoving him up against the counter and snogging him senseless that the itch under his skin disappears and he feels calmer and more controlled. He strokes his thumb over Liam's cheek and breathes in as Liam laughs at him.

"They'll find out much sooner if they catch us doing this," Liam says, but he doesn't sound annoyed. He sounds indulgent and fond, and Harry grins up at him before he drags Liam in for another soul-wrenching kiss.

"Alright lads?"

Niall's voice cuts through their little bubble and Harry can feel Liam's laughter against his lips before they pull apart and Harry turns to find Niall grinning at them.

"Hey Lou, Zayn! C'mere!" Niall yells over his shoulder as Liam's hands settle on Harry's hips and he leans back against Liam's solid warmth. "Harry and Liam have something they wanna share!"

"Are they fucking?" Lou yells back. "Because I don't wanna see that, thanks."

"Yeah, think they are actually," Niall yells. "S'kinda cute actually!"

"Mates fucking each other isn't cute, Niall," Zayn calls through. "Stop being a perv and leave them alone."

With a wink, Niall disappears, and Harry lets out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Liam leans his chin on Harry's shoulder and cuddles him from behind.

"That was easy," Liam remarks, sounding a bit confused.

"Were you expecting anything else?" Harry asks, tugging Liam back into the den where he settles into the sofa and tugs Liam down until he's half sitting on Harry, half sprawled on the sofa. They shift and wriggle until they're comfortable, Liam's legs slung over Harry's lap as Harry brushes his hand gently over Liam's healing leg.

"No fucking on the tour bus," Louis says quickly.

"Or any shared space, in fact," Zayn adds.

It's all they say before Anchorman appears on the telly. Harry catches Zayn's smile though. He grins back, horrendously happy. "We can go for jogs," he whispers to Liam, who turns to him with a quizzical look. "Work out together. Build up the strength in your leg. I've got a whole reward system worked out."

Liam grins, going crinkly-eyed as he leans in and nuzzles Harry's neck. Harry hums happily, stroking Liam's back idly as they both turn towards the telly, and watch the movie credits start to roll.


End file.
